


Families and Familiars: Second Year

by Sherza



Series: Families and Familiars [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alliances, Dragons, Familiars, Family, Family of Choice, Founder's Heir, Gen, Manipulative Dumbledore, Politics, Rank and Nobility, Sentient Hogwarts, Suicide of OC committed off-screen, War, World of BAMF, discussion of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 185,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherza/pseuds/Sherza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Death Eaters are on the move, Dumbledore is stymied, and the Black Alliance has geared up for a war on multiple fronts. What challenges will everyone face as Harry goes into his Second Year?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer Begins

Summer Begins

Disclaimer: Ain't mine and never will be, sadly. Don't sue. This is a sequel to Families and Familiars. This story will make no sense whatever unless you read that first!

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 1, 1992 Potter Castle

Severus had been ... unsure ... about accepting the invitation to Potter Castle. Even knowing there were several floors of rooms and he could isolate himself from Black if it became necessary wasn't enough. Granted, the Castle had no ill memories for him, since he'd never been there, but ... it did have James and Lily's portrait. And even knowing from the letter that Lily had forgiven him, didn't hate him ... well, to say he was hesitant to be anywhere near a portrait of those two people was to vastly understate the case.

Unfortunately, the only place away from Hogwarts available to him was Spinner's End, as he had not anticipated the need for a better home, as he'd lived in Hogwarts since his defection. He had the money, now, to buy a home more to his liking, and would be looking into it so as to have a place before the Christmas holidays, just in case.

Despite all of that, there was a part of him, a part he'd never admit to in a million years, that was looking forward to seeing Lily again, no matter the circumstances, and that it wasn't really, truly Lily. It was close enough.

He arrived in the early morning, apparating to a spot just outside the Castle's wards with a half dozen trunks in tow. He'd decided to pack up all his personal belongings, just in case, including all the potions ingredients and equipment he'd bought with his salary, rather than purchased through Hogwarts' funds for the school's use. He didn't quite trust Dumbledore to not throw a tantrum at some point over the summer. Hogwarts would do what she could to protect his lab, but the truth of it was that a lot of the things in there were rather volatile, and Dumbledore knew more than enough about potions to do some serious damage if he got the mind to.

Moments after he appeared, a young-looking house elf popped into view a few feet ahead of him.

"Master Harry sir is on his way, Master Snape sir. Master Harry is asking Mallie to take Master Snape sir's trunks inside."

Severus nodded. "Very well. These four go into the potions lab. The other two ... " He hesitated for a moment. "I will let you know where they go later." As those two would go into his private room, and he had no idea where he'd be staying.

Mallie nodded and popped out, taking the trunks with her. A few moments later, the heavy portcullis rose, and Harry darted under it, heading straight for Severus.

"Hello Professor!" He called. "Hang on just a second ... " He headed over to the stone he'd used to open the wards when he, Sirius and Remus had first arrived here. He pricked his palm and clapped his hand to the stone, murmuring under his breath. "Ok ... that's got it. You can come in now." Harry clanged over at Severus. "I've added you to the wards so you can come and go at will, including Floo access, rather than having to wait for one of the three of us to let you in or out."

Severus nodded and then crossed the ward boundary. "Thank you, Harry."

He followed Harry onto the Castle's grounds, and blinked at the array of gardens. "Do you know if there is a potions garden among all this?"

"Yes, actually there is. It's around back, near the back gate of the inner wall, so it's easy to get to from the back entrance of the castle, which is the entrance closest to the potions lab." Harry said. "There's something like four greenhouses with plants in them that are used in potions but don't do well in the weather here." He smiled up at Severus. "Actually, the castle is remarkably close to self-sufficient. There are gardens and greenhouses in the inner yard for herbs, spices, fruits and vegetables, as well as orchards. Plus a chicken coop and pigsty. We really only need to buy beef and a few other staples like flour, since there's no facility here ... at least not anymore, for grinding grain into flour. There's even a well with access to an underground spring that lets out into the Sound near here."

"It would seem that your ancestors planned for the worst when they built this castle." Severus admitted. Granted, a lot of things had gone by the wayside over the centuries, but it didn't take much imagination at all to figure out that the place would have been fully self-sustaining behind its high walls if it came under siege in the past.

Harry nodded and then pushed open the front door, as they'd finally reached it. "Yeah, they really did." He said. "And the wards are something else, too. I'm not even sure if Hogwarts' wards are as comprehensive as the ones we have here."

"Possibly not." Severus said. "Hogwarts was conceived, after all, as the home of multitudes, so people would constantly be going in and out of the wards, and with new muggleborns coming in every year, the wards that are keyed to blood would have been impossible to implement, among other problems." Severus didn't even want to think about the logistics that would be required to key new people into the wards every year if Hogwarts had blood wards of any kind.

Much to Severus' relief, neither Black nor Lupin were in evidence as Harry led him across the wide, empty space that was the main floor. "Quick tour." Harry said. "Kitchen and pantry are there." He pointed to the right. "As is one of the bathrooms. Family dining room, which is the one we use, is there." He pointed immediately to the left. "Another bathroom there." Also to the left. "And the Entry Parlor, which has the only fireplace on the Floo network in the castle, is there." He pointed to a room just to the left of the staircase directly across from the entrance. "The rest of it's company and party spaces, really. We don't hang out down here much. We usually just have the elves bring meals to the third floor and eat up there."

Severus followed Harry to the stairs, and up them. "Second floor's got more general stuff. The center room's got the bulk of the library, but there are bookshelves practically everywhere in the castle." Harry told him. "So if you're looking for something in particular, either ask Toker, the head elf, or there's the library ledger on that podium. Write what you're after, and it can tell you where it's at." Harry grinned up at Severus. "There's a dueling room and armory here you might be interested in, as well as a music and craft room, and a couple rooms for records and extra portraits there isn't room for on the walls."

Harry led him up to the third floor. "And this is where we've set ourselves up. Our rooms are there." He pointed immediately to the right of the stairs to the three doors that led to his, Sirius and Remus' rooms. "There's five more rooms on this floor if you decide you want to set up here, which frankly, I recommend ... the decor of the other floors leaves much to be desired, unless gold, filigree and horrendous color combinations are your cuppa."

"Where are Black and Lupin?" Severus asked.

"They're out on the Quidditch pitch. Remus dragged Sirius out there a little bit ago, to let give you a chance to get settled without Sirius in your hair, since the two of you aren't each other's biggest fans. And the twins are coming shortly, as well ... so with some luck, you won't have to deal with each other until dinner." Harry said. "Though I think Sirius and Remus are going to want a meeting, so we can figure out what we're doing and when. The Wizengamot session doesn't start until the sixth, so we've got a few days to do other things in." Harry wrinkled his nose.

Severus caught that reaction. "I thought you would not be attending, as you are too young?"

"Yeah, I'm too young to actually vote, for now, but Sirius wants me to attend anyway, so I start getting a feel for how things work before I have to jump in and start doing it myself."

"That is unusually perceptive of him." Severus grudgingly admitted.

Harry laughed. "Don't sound so surprised, Professor. I dunno what the heck happened between you guys when you were in school, but things ... and people ... have changed a lot since then."

Severus glowered at Harry, but didn't say anything further, reluctantly admitting that Harry had a point. It was just difficult for him to see Black as anything but a vicious bully. After a bit of thought, Severus finally took the room furthest from the 'Potter' corner of the third floor. And studiously did not look for Lily in any of the myriad of portraits on the walls. He would deal with that later. Much, much later if he had any say in the matter. Which, he admitted, he probably didn't. Lily would very likely seek him out.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about that.

His chosen room, much to his relief, were not decorated in Gryffindor colors, but instead in rich browns and creams much like his quarters at Hogwarts had been. There were a number of portraits on three walls, while the fourth was taken up entirely by well-stocked bookshelves, much to Severus' delight. There was also a large desk and chair, aside from the bed, nightstands, and wardrobe. He'd gotten about halfway unpacked when he heard the unmistakable racket of the twins as they clambered up the stairs, remarking loudly about everything they passed. Severus shook his head and left his room to keep an eye on them.

Fred and George eventually decided that, despite the fact there were rooms to spare, they were going to stay in the same room. As such, the bed was changed around with a bit of help from the house elves, so that it was two somewhat smaller beds, rather than one enormous one. Severus insisted on them taking the room right next to his own so that he at least had a chance of keeping an eye on them, compared to if they were halfway across the castle from him.

The three boys then joined Remus and Sirius outside for a fly. Severus took the opportunity to finish unpacking his room, then headed to the basement and the potions lab, to begin unpacking everything there.

The potions lab was to the right of the stairs as he got off them, and he did a double take when he opened the door. The room was brightly lit and looked freshly polished, which was hardly surprising with industrious house elves in residence, but it was something like five times the size of his private lab at Hogwarts. One wall was nothing but racks, some of them for cauldrons, in a wide range of sizes and materials. Other racks held a variety of implements, stirring rods in every material, shape and size, scales of different materials and able to weigh different amounts, ranging from parts of an ounce to many pounds, a huge array of phials in all shapes and sizes, as well as other things needed for advanced potion making. Best of all, there was a podium, heavily laden with protection spells, designed to hold a book open to a particular page, allowing for hands-free referencing of a recipe or a convenient, protected place to put a notebook in which to record experiments. The tables were, in his experience, unique. There were a half a dozen of them, each one quite long, with multiple sections, each section having different surfaces at different heights to accommodate the varying sizes of cauldrons and flame heat required for various potions. There were also sections scattered along the length of each table meant to be used for ingredient preparation. The whole thing gave the tables a very odd look, but Severus could see that it would be a lot more convenient than the usual setup.

A door in the back of the room proved to lead to the supply closet. If you could call an enormous room stocked with more ingredients than Severus had seen in his life a closet. All four walls were packed, and there were long, well-stocked cabinets in rows in the middle of the room. Best of all, everything was neatly labeled and wrapped in preservation and stasis spells, allowing them to remain at the peak of their usefulness more or less indefinitely. And due to the age of the castle, there were ingredients stocked that had become very rare or had died out completely over time.

Severus was hard put to keep from becoming giddy. Well, if Black became difficult, he would have no difficulty at all staying down here until summer's end, that was for certain. His mind was already racing with ideas for experimentation. He finally got himself back in hand and unpacked his private supplies, which now looked rather pathetic and paltry in comparison to the treasure trove before him. Eventually, it was dinnertime, and Severus called for Mallie.

"Is dinner taking place in the dining room, or elsewhere?" He asked once she'd popped in.

"It bes taking place in the dining room, Master Snape sir. Master Remus is saying it bes better with so many here now."

Severus gave a nod of agreement and headed out of the potions lab and up the stairs. He followed the racket the twins were making to the family dining room. The others were already in residence, though they apparently hadn't been in the room long, as they were all standing, talking animatedly about whatever they'd been up to outside. The twins broke off and all but bounced over to Severus.

"This place is wicked, Professor." Fred said.

"Ronniekins will be green with jealousy." George said. "I mean, we have our own quidditch pitch. With hoops and everything."

"Neville's going to go bonkers over the plants." Fred said, grinning. "There's enough here to keep him busy the rest of his life."

Severus gave an amused snort, as Fred was entirely correct. "Harry mentioned there were four greenhouses of plants with uses in potions. I will want a full list from the two of you in a week's time. Use the reference books in my library ... or I imagine there are some in the castle library ... to identify any plants you don't already know." He would be doing his own inventory, of course, but he wanted the twins to begin the admittedly long, tedious process of learning the appearance and name of as many ingredients, both plant and animal, as possible.

"Speaking of assignments, we need to figure out what all we're going to be doing, aside from the obvious." Remus said.

Severus nodded in agreement as he took a seat at the table, putting one twin on either side of himself to make it a touch more difficult for them to plot and pull something off. "That would be wise, especially since there is so much to be done."

"First on the list is a long stop at Gringotts." Sirius said, looking at Remus as if he was only addressing him, so as to keep from antagonizing Severus. "Harry said something a while back about a vault that Hogwarts has, that books and the like get pulled into if someone tries to remove them for a reason other than them being in irreparable condition. Between that, the library here and the Black library, we're bound to find something on how Voldemort kept himself alive."

"And something on how to get rid of the Marks." Harry said. "Hopefully quickly and easily." He did not at all like the fact that Severus was in real danger of torture and death if Voldemort managed to get a body back before they got rid of the Mark.

Sirius glanced over at Harry and nodded. Right about then the food appeared on the table, and everyone paused to load their plates.

"I will require time to teach the children occlumency. Harry especially." Severus said. Like Sirius, he addressed Remus like he was the only other adult in the room. It wasn't a good solution for the long term, but it was working in the short term to keep the two men from ripping into each other verbally. "Dumbledore and Voldemort both are Legilimens, and he will need to learn to guard his mind from them. Given that the others are much in his company and learn pretty much everything Harry knows, it would be best if they all learned it to protect both themselves and him."

"Good point." Remus admitted. "So we definitely have to put that on the schedule. Plus lessons with Minerva and Filius, and Harry's etiquette and protocol lessons with Madame Longbottom. And Charlie has made a case for us to come to the dragon preserve. Which I will admit, I sort of want to do. He's been over the moon for months over the progress they're making with the dragons, and I think it would be interesting to see it, and a fun vacation"

"And the Wizengamot sessions, which, thankfully, are only once a week, otherwise we'd have a problem on our hands." Sirius piped up. "Plus the kids need time to do their homework and just goof off. And the twins will be working with Snape. And we'll have meetings with our allies to plan our next moves. And the adults will be running interference with the Death Eaters."

"So ... busy summer." Fred said with a grin. "Best kind!"

Eventually, dinner was over and Severus headed for his room, not at all inclined to socialize with Sirius or Remus. Of course, that was when Lily showed up. He'd barely closed his door when her voice filled the room, making him flinch and fight the urge to hunch his shoulders. Despite the letter, some part of him still expected her to be pissed off and repudiate him. Again.

"Severus. It's good to see you." She said quietly. Then. "Oh, Severus. I'm not going to bite or yell. I promise. Come over by the bed, will you?"

It took Severus a minute to do as she asked, and he still refused to look at the portrait she was standing in.

"Severus ... " Lily said, sounding somewhere between amused and exasperated. "The letter wasn't a setup."

That finally brought his head up, because how could she know he'd been entertaining that notion, somewhere in the back of his mind? And there she was, leaning against an odd statue that was in the portrait with her, giving him a sad smile. Severus swallowed hard as he looked at a picture of Lily that had the same fire in the eyes Lily had had in life.

Wizarding photographs didn't have quite the same quality as portraits did. Actions taken in photographs were similar to what was being done when the picture was taken. A snowball fight would continue, with myriad variations, people would smile and wave in various ways, et cetera. However, the persons pictured could not speak and there was no personality transfer at all. So while Severus had wizarding pictures of Lily ... they hadn't truly 'been' her.

He had loved this woman. And always would, even if he'd go to his death before admitting as much. And it both hurt beyond the telling of it ... and felt incredibly good ... to have something that wasn't quite Lily but was damn close.

Lily, evidently, was well aware of at least some of his train of thought, because she smiled at him. "I know you, Severus. You always were suspicious verging on paranoid. There was a time when that annoyed me a little ... because I didn't understand." She admitted. "My world ... well, I grew up in a rather different world than you did. I never had reason to learn to watch my back." She sighed. "I wish I had ... or barring that, that I'd had you around, that last year or two. We Gryffindors are ill suited to spotting or comprehending Machiavellian schemes."

She pushed off the statue and came closer. "And Severus? For whatever it's worth ... I'm so, so sorry. I hurt you when you needed my support most, and I don't think I'll ever really forgive myself for that." She flapped a hand. "Of course you had to learn to say that, to talk the way they did. They would have torn you to shreds otherwise ... probably literally." She snorted. "Your mother died that summer." Leaving him with Tobias, she didn't say, but didn't have to. "And those idiot boys pulled that stupid stunt. And the other stupid stunt on top of that, which I didn't find out about until later." Lily sighed. "Small wonder you lost your cool and your mouth got ahead of your brain for a moment. But I was a silly little girl and decided to stomp off in a snit like an idiot and leave you alone." She shook her head. "It was very ill done of me."

By the time she'd wound down, Severus had become inordinately interested in the weave of the quilt on his bed, unable to look at her. "Don't." He said, his voice raw. "I don't ... "

Lily snorted. "Severus ... I don't blame you for what happened to me." She said. "You didn't know it would bring him to my doorstep, and when you figured it out, you tried to protect me ... despite the fact we'd been estranged for years, at that point. And honestly, Severus ... given everything we've learned or suspected ... do you really still think those events were solely your actions?"

That snapped Severus' head up, because no, he hadn't really considered that, as he'd been entirely too busy grieving Lily's loss and castigating himself for being the one responsible for her death to stop and think. "Do not ... " He started.

"Severus, think. The interview was in a bar. Why? When he had Hogwarts at his disposal and there was a war on ... why did he choose to meet with Trelawney at the Hog's Head, of all places? A place that was, and I'm betting still is, known for playing host to a somewhat disreputable clientele."

"Dumbledore couldn't have known ... " Severus started.

"True, he had no way of knowing if Trelawney would spout off, or what she'd say if she did, but that doesn't excuse meeting her there, where there had to have been more than one unfriendly pair of eyes and ears ready to report anything of interest they heard or saw."

Damnit, Severus had always hated it when Lily had a valid point that he'd somehow missed. It hadn't happened often in their childhood days, but it had happened a few times, and had annoyed him greatly each time. This time, the annoyance was greater, and accompanied by a painful pang. "You have a point."

Lily laughed. "I see some things haven't changed ... you still get that constipated look on your face when I manage to outthink you." She said. "Don't feel bad about this one, Sev." Hearing his nickname again made Severus twitch. "I don't imagine you were at your best when everything was happening. And I had most of a year of peace and quiet to sit and think."

"On a somewhat similar subject, Harry told me about the Mark." Lily said, frowning a little. "We'll get that dealt with. We've got some pretty ... spectacular minds, among the portraits." And even as a portrait, Lily was looking forward to when Severus found out there was a portrait of the Founders here. "Not to mention a heck of a library. With any luck, that damn thing will be gone before school starts again. And then you can give Dumbledore a message from me."

Severus couldn't quite stop the bark of laughter at that, well aware that Lily was probably boiling mad at Dumbledore. "It's too bad you can't deliver the message yourself." He said. "It would be most entertaining."

"Agreed, but my portrait can't be brought into the school without risking it having to stay there permanently, and there's no way in hell Dumbledore will ever be permitted inside the Castle wards. So this will have to do." She smiled at Severus. "I have missed you, my friend. I'm very, very glad you're here."

Severus reached over and touched the frame of the painting she was in. "It's incredibly good to have you around again, in whatever form, Lily. I have missed you." Which was pretty much the understatement of the century, but there you go.

"And I've missed you." Lily agreed, then grinned. "Now, I've missed out on an incredible amount of gossip and news. I remember that you got your Master's parchments a little before ... well, before. What have you been up to since then?"

Out in the main room, Remus, Sirius, Harry, the twins, Hedwig and Hissesh had gathered in the spot Remus, Sirius, and Harry usually used as their hanging-out spot. The twins were chatting animatedly with James in his portrait, delighted to be able to talk to the third member of the Marauders. Meanwhile, Remus, Sirius, and Harry had pulled out the boxes of mail to work on a little bit. Hissesh was curled up under the nearest table, so as to be mostly out from underfoot while still being able to hang out, and Hedwig was perched on the back of the couch right behind Harry.

"Looks like we're making progress finally." Harry said, eyeing the boxes. They'd been working on this since early in the school year last year, but there was ten years of mail to be dealt with, which was a lot. Especially since Remus and Sirius had been reduced to sending packets of sorted mail to Harry on weekends for him to sign. Still, there were fewer boxes than they'd started with. Quite a few less.

"Yeah. We might have this lot sorted by the end of summer, if we're lucky. Depends on how frantic things get." Sirius said. "At worst, it'll be done by next summer." Then he glanced over at Harry. "We going to tell them about ... " He nodded his head towards the portraits.

It took Harry a minute to figure out what Sirius was on about, but then he got it. And considered. "Yeah ... I think we should. Snape at least. The others once he says they can guard their minds enough. I've been lucky that Dumbledore hasn't tried to corner me and pull something questionable."

/Not lucky so much as him knowing full good and well the sort of damage a pissed off familiar can and will do to anyone who hurts their wizard./ Hedwig pointed out.

Harry laughed. "You have a point, Hedwig. Especially as you've made it rather blatantly clear you kind of want to tear his eyes out of his head over the last year."

"Tell us what?" The twins said, in stereo.

"Can't say, for now. Not until you learn occlumency. Dumbledore may not want to risk Hedwig's wrath by messing with me, but you guys don't have the same protection." Harry told them.

"No. We just have mum." Fred said, grinning widely. "She's every bit as bad as Hedwig. She'd happily vivisect Dumbledore if he messed with any of us kids."

"Plus." George pointed out. "We're Snape's apprentices, and Dumbledore knows it."

"And Dumbledore is smart enough to not want to piss Snape off." Sirius said. "At least, not any worse than he already is. Pissing off any potions master is a rather ugly way to commit suicide. Pissing off Snape ... that's worse."

Harry cocked his head sideways. "You know, when you put it like that ... none of us are all that vulnerable really. Hermione has Crookshanks, and Neville has his gran, who's apparently on the warpath as bad as your mum." He glanced over at Sirius and Remus. "Maybe we can tell them."

"Tomorrow, cub." Remus said. "I don't think Severus is going to be coming out of his room anytime tonight. Lily went in to talk to him."

Harry nodded. "Right, so, tomorrow." Then he grinned. "Ought to be fun."

Fred and George shared a look. "You know, the last time he pulled a prank ... " Fred started.

"He got the entire wizarding world in general, Hogwarts and Dumbledore in particular." George finished.

The pair of them turned to look at Harry, anticipatory grins on their faces. "This is going to be good, isn't it?" They asked, again in stereo.

"Oh yeah. It's good." Harry said with a grin. "You're going to love it."

That made the twins grin hugely and bounce in place. "Right. Breakfast?" It was less a question and more a demand.

"Breakfast." Harry promised. "Provided you can drag Severus to it."

"Consider it done." Fred said, and then the twins went back to talking to James.

Harry reached up behind him to stroke Hedwig. /I'm looking forward to their faces./ He admitted.

/You're not the only one. Ought to be rather hilarious./ Hedwig told him. /Ohhhh, just there. That spot's been itching all day!/

Harry increased his scratching. /You should have told me about that, silly./ He scolded gently. As he scratched, his fingers found something. /Ahhh, I think I found the problem. Dead feather that got caught in the others instead of falling free./ He worked the feather free of the others and set it in his lap. /That better?/

/Much. Thank you./ Hedwig nibbled at Harry's hair, grooming it in thanks.

After allowing Hedwig to groom him for a few more moments, Harry sat forward again and went back to helping with the mail. A few minutes later, the twins joined them, and Hissesh slithered out from under the table to drape himself over Harry's feet. Harry reached down to pat him, grinning at the blatant attention-seeking.

[[You warm enough, Hissesh?]] He asked.

[[Yes. It is quite nice here.]] Hissesh said. [[Much quieter.]]

Harry cocked his head. [[School got a bit much for you?]] He asked. [[You could stay here come fall, if you want. I'm sure Remus and Sirius won't mind.]]

Hissesh gave a wordless hiss of negation, then [[No. I will stay with you, Harry. The school may be a bit hectic, but not that much.]]

[[As long as you're sure.]] Harry said, then shot a glance at Sirius and Remus. While both men knew he could talk to snakes, neither of them had all that much exposure to Harry doing it, and Harry was still a bit twitchy about them accepting him. A lifetime with the Dursleys did not incline him to trust in their continued acceptance of him. Some part of him fully expected them to denounce him as a freak at some point.

Of course, neither Remus nor Sirius was about to do that, and had, in point of fact, barely even acknowledged that Harry's been talking to Hissesh, as they'd both been busy with the mail.

/They are not cruel and fickle like the Dursleys, Harry-chick/ Hedwig pointed out. /Neither of them cares that you can talk to Hissesh./

/I know./ Harry said with a purely mental sigh. /Doesn't stop me from worrying about it, though./


	2. Gringotts

Gringotts

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 2, 1992 Potter Castle and Gringotts

Harry figured he could be forgiven for waking at the crack of dawn. Especially given the day's plan. Doubly especially the plan for breakast. He was looking forward to that probably more than was healthy. Evidently the whole pranking thing actually was genetic ... or catching, and he got infected by Sirius, one of the two.

And obviously, he wasn't the only one looking forward to this, because when he stumbled out of his room, Sirius was already in the family room, looking a bit bleary-eyed but also anticipatory ... and so were the twins. Which Harry found hilarious because they didn't even know what they were anticipating.

"No Hedwig?" Sirius asked, noticing the lack of owl on Harry's shoulder.

"She's still asleep." Harry admitted. "I didn't want to wake her."

"Fair enough, especially since it's only about five in the morning." Sirius said. "We may as well get some of the mail dealt with while we wait for a somewhat more normal hour. I don't know about the rest of you, but the idea of waking Snape up ... " Sirius trailed off.

The twins shuddered. "Not a comforting thought." Fred said.

"He's grumpy enough when he's woken on his own and gotten some tea in him." George agreed.

"What he'd be like rousted out of bed early, we'd rather not find out. Yet."

So the boxes were gotten out and the four of them sorted mail until they heard Remus moving about in his room about an hour and a half later. By then, both Hedwig and Hissesh had waken and come out to join the twins, Harry, and Sirius.

Remus laughed when he came out of his room and spotted them. "How long have you four been up?" He asked.

"Since about five for me." Harry admitted. "But these three were already out here by then."

Remus laughed again and shook his head, then headed for the bathroom.

Severus swept out of his room a few minutes later, and into the bathroom by his room, without so much as looking their way. Harry was amused to see that even his nightclothes were black. Severus seemed a bit less grumpy when he came back out of the bathroom, and also more awake. He gave the gathering in the far corner a jaundiced glare.

"And what." He demanded. "Have you two miscreants been up to, so early in the morning."

"Nothing, Professor." The twins chorused.

"Just helping Harry with his backlog of mail." Fred said.

Severus gave the two of them a long, suspicious look, then evidently decided that they were either sincere, or to let it drop for the moment. Just then Remus came out of the second bathroom.

"Good morning, Severus. Now we're all up, I think we'd best get breakfast. There are some things we need to talk over once we're all fully awake."

Severus turned on his heel and stalked for the stairs, clearly still not awake enough to pretend to be human. Harry stalled long enough for everyone else to get moving, then glanced over at his parents' portrait. James was the only one there at the moment ... Harry sort of figured that Lily had still been hanging out in Severus' room. From the sounds of things, they'd had a lot to talk about.

"Would you go find them, and ask them to head for the family dining room?" Harry asked his father.

"Sure thing, kiddo. And I'm going to be heading down there myself. Ought to be entertaining."

"James Potter, you leave Severus be." Lily demanded as she slid into their portrait. She also gave James a swat on the arm.

James pouted at her. "I have been! I didn't even try to talk to him yet! You can't blame me for wanting to see their reaction!"

Harry snickered. "You really can't, mum. It's going to be funny. I'm not even sure which of the three's going to be more entertaining."

Lily huffed, then glowered a bit before relenting. "I guess I can't." She agreed. "It isn't exactly the normal sort of news, is it? You'd better get going, Harry ... they're going to be waiting for you as it is."

Harry nodded and scurried off, an amused Hedwig flying in his wake.

Harry decided to wait until after everyone had eaten to break the news ... the last thing he needed was one of the three choking on a bite of food or something like that. Once they'd all eaten their fill, Severus sat back.

"Now, Mr. Potter, would you kindly tell us what you have on your mind? You've been twitching and staring all through breakfast."

Harry blinked, startled, then laughed. "All right."

He instantly had the twins' full attention. Sirius sat back in his own chair, cup in hand and near his mouth, probably to hide the grin Harry was fairly sure he was sporting.

"You guys remember when I told you about Hogwarts being alive and talking to me?" Harry asked. "Well ... I kind of didn't tell you the whole truth. There was a reason she picked me to start talking to. It turns out, I really am a Gryffindor. Literally. His heir, actually."

There was a long moment of silence from the twins and Severus, finally broken when the twins let out ear-splitting whoops and high-fived each other before collapsing in laughter. Severus seemed to content himself with a pained expression and pinching the bridge of his considerable nose.

"I should have suspected, as interested as the castle has been in your welfare." Severus groused. Then glared. "And explains much about your father."

"Actually, he didn't know." Harry said. "See, according to my ... sources ... Godric and Salazar were actually good friends. It was Salazar's son and namesake that was the nutter." Harry said. "Godric, Salazar, and Helena fought the idiot. Rowena'd died by then. The nutter was killing as many of the Founders' relatives as he could get his hands on, because he knew the castle was alive, and could be controlled ... at least back then, she's developed enough now that it's not true anymore ... by them and their heirs. Godric's eldest grandson, and the future heir to the Gryffindor name, faked his death, and with the help of Godric, Helena, and Salazar, he and his children were ... hidden. All evidence that Gryffindor had existed prior to Godric was wiped out, both in the magical world and the Muggle one, turning Godric into a guy who came out of nowhere and had no known heirs. It was Potter what'd been around since the dawn of time, and all that."

"Which deprived Salazar's son and his descendants of a target, and kept one of the other Founder lines alive to protect Hogwarts, if it became necessary." Severus said, as if he'd put the pieces together. "But if your father did not know, then somewhere along the line, the knowledge was lost to the Potters. The question becomes, how did you discover it, and why did Hogwarts not speak to your father."

"Well, she didn't talk to him because she'd fallen asleep." Harry said. "After a while, people forgot that she was sentient, and started treating her like just a normal building. With no one to interact with, she just ... dozed off. She knew there were heirs in the school, but she'd given up on trying to contact them. It was only when I walked in, wearing the Head of House ring that she tried again, as the ring is evidently linked to Hogwarts somehow."

Harry glanced at the nearest portrait, which was, at least for the moment, devoid of any people, then back over to Severus and the twins. "It also means we have access to ... well, a lot of information. From what I've been able to figure out, the library here, and what's in the Potter Vault, goes back ... well, a really, really long time. Maybe as long as there's been the written word, even, as I saw more than a few scrolls in the vault that did not look like they were made of parchment."

Severus was not, by any means, slow on the uptake. "Which means the chances of finding a solution for getting rid of the Mark is that much greater. Especially when combined with the persons in the various portraits here. Lily ... " There was the slightest hesitation and catch in his voice when Severus said her name. "Said something about having some spectacular minds here."

"You could say that, lad." And amused-sounding Godric said from the portrait Harry had glanced at a few moments before. "You could definitely say that."

Severus blinked at the portrait for half a second, then nodded respectfully. "Godric Gryffindor, I presume?"

"Indeed lad. And I think you might know my companions as well." And then the other three Founders walked into the portrait.

Severus nodded respectfully again. By then, the twins had managed to pick themselves up off the floor and quit laughing, though they hadn't been able to stop grinning like fiends yet. They both echoed Severus' nod, eyes glittering.

"Can we come to Gringotts with you?" Fred asked.

"Dunno if we can actually go in the Hogwarts vault, but even seeing it from outside would be brilliant." George said.

"Actually, as students of the school, you'll be able to enter." Godric said. "Especially in the presence of an heir ... or the Headmaster, but since there technically isn't one at the moment, according to Sirius and Remus ... "

That made the twins start laughing again. "We had such fun pranking him." Fred said.

"We even left some stuff with the bravest of the house-elves, to continue our work for us until we get back." George told them.

"No rest for the wicked, as they say. And he's definitely wicked." Fred said.

Godric shook his head in amusement and glanced over at Salazar. "I do believe I agree with Sirius ... the Hat clearly went senile sometime in the last thousand years. The pranksters used to all go to your House."

"I told you the Hat was a bad idea." Salazar grumped, though from the twitching at the corners of his mouth he wasn't anywhere near as grumpy as he sounded. "But no, you had to decide an idea you came up with in a drunken stupor was a good one and carry through with it. I'm not entirely sure you were actually sober when you started the enchantments. It would explain so much."

"Like you had any better of an idea?" Godric asked. The grin on his face was a bit more blatant than Salazar's.

"Boys, don't make us break you up." Helga said, with the weary air of someone who's said something along those lines very frequently.

"Taking away all our fun, Helga?" Godric asked.

"Saving what remains of our sanity." Helga said. "Someone has to keep you two in line, or you'd end up pranking the whole of the world, left to your own devices. Boys." The last word was accompanied by a half-annoyed hand-wave.

The twins and Harry were laughing by that point, thoroughly amused at seeing the Founders act like they were 'real people', rather than the venerable, wise stick-in-the-muds they were frequently portrayed as in history books.

Eventually, they got themselves straightened out and cleaned up and ready to head for Diagon Alley and Gringotts. Sirius grabbed the library ledger, so they could snap up any books not already in the castle's library.

Their arrival at Gringotts turned quite a few heads. Not that Harry really blamed anyone. He and Sirius were in semi-formal robes bearing their family crests, and Remus was wearing his 'servant's robes' with the Black crest on them, since they were going to be out and about among potentially unfriendly people. Especially where Remus was concerned. Harry frowned. He rather strongly suspected that Sirius planned to abolish the anti-werewolf laws at the first opportunity ... and Harry hoped to be able to help with that, because it was horrifically unfair to people like Remus, whose only sin was to have been victimized by an out-of-control monster.

Severus was wearing his normal black ... with one small difference. On the breast, where a family crest would otherwise go, there was a crest that proclaimed Severus' status as a Potion Master, a gold cauldron (with stirring implement visible) with curls of smoke rising from it, above a crossed wand and knife. The twins were wearing new robes that Severus had purchased for them shortly after they officially became his apprentices, bearing the crest that marked them as such, a bronze cauldron.

As with Remus, being Severus' apprentices gave the Weasley twins a certain amount of protection, as a Master had primary responsibility for his apprentices. If the twins did something wrong, their punishment was decided by Severus, not the victim or any judiciary body the victim might bring their complaint to.

**Not that that ought to comfort the twins** Harry thought. **Because Severus is a right devious bastard, and any punishment he'd cook up would doubtlessly make them long for Azkaban as a more lenient punishment**

At any rate, their group of six moving together like that, drew a lot of eyes as they walked through the Alley and into Gringotts itself.

The first hint of something odd going on that they got was when a goblin approached them, rather than them having to head for one of the lines.

"Zartank will see you now. Follow me please."

They all exchanged looks before Sirius shrugged and followed the goblin to Zartank's office.

Harry wasn't entirely sure, but he got the feeling that Zartank was pleased to see the lot of them. Certainly, he was prepared for all of them, as there were six chairs in his office.

"I apologize for redirecting you, as I am sure you had other business to attend to here, but there was something I had need to speak with you of." Zartank told them. "Something that could not be spoken of before now, as the danger was too great."

That had all of them looking at each other in alarm. Severus eyed Zartank suspiciously. "Of what do you speak?" He demanded.

"Prophecy, gentlemen." Zartank said, ignoring the flinch the word got from Severus and Harry both. "Not all prophecies are incomprehensible muck. There were, in fact, two prophecies made about Harry. One by Sybill Trelawney ... and one by her ancestress, the far more reliable Cassandra Trelawney. And where Sybill spoke in riddles, Cassandra was far more clear. Sybill left only 'this kid can defeat Voldemort' behind, more or less. Cassandra's prophecy told how to do it."

Well, that definitely got him their full attention. Zartank quoted the longer prophecy in full, then gave Harry an amused look. "It pleases me to see that you seem to have begun to assemble the Pack already." He said, then nodded towards Remus and Sirius. "The werewolf and dog." He pointed to the twins. "Mischief's Heirs." Then Severus. "The snake. Or so I have come to believe. The cat, I am sure, is McGonagall, and there is only one contender for Goblin's son ... Filius Flitwick, the only wizarding family to have goblin blood in their veins."

"Which leaves the fox, bear, tigress, and house elf." Severus said. Privately, he agreed with Zartank's interpretation of the prophecy. "And no clue whom they might be."

"My thought was they might be contemporaries of Mr. Potter." Zartank said. "Friends of his, or people who will become friends."

"Hermione and Neville!" Harry said. "I bet I even know which ones they are. Hermione's smart, like a fox."

"And Neville is solid like a bear." Remus said with a nod. "Which leaves only the tigress and the house elf a mystery. It even gives us a timeframe for when Voldemort will be defeated."

"But twenty-four years from now is a long time, Remus." Harry did not look at all happy about that idea.

"I believe the prophecy is counting from Voldemort's first rise to power." Zartank said. "Which would put his final defeat sometime during your fourteenth year."

"That makes sense ... that's when he'd be able to step up as Head of the Potter family." Sirius agreed. "When he'd have access to ... well, certain things that have been linked to the Black and Potter families for a very, very long time."

"You speak of the takeover ritual." Zartank said.

"Yeah. Among other things, but as bad as the wizarding world has gotten, I have a bad feeling it'll come down to the ritual." Sirius said. "We're not just dealing with Voldemort after all. We're dealing with Dumbledore too ... and the damage he's done."

"Very true." Zartank agreed.

"I think I even know what the 'power he knows not' is, now." Harry said. "It's Hogwarts. Somehow." He glanced at Sirius. "She likes me."

"You are Godric's Heir, you mean." Zartank said. "I am sorry we did not tell you before, but we were forbidden to speak of it unless the Potter we were talking to was aware of their ancestry."

That got him a few looks before the adults shrugged. A goblin would never even think of breaking an oath once it was given, and they knew that ... it was part of why goblins were used as the wizarding world's bankers, aside from their uncanny ability to turn a profit.

"You have access to things Voldemort doesn't. And he can't know you're an heir, not with the magic that was done to hide Godric's line." Remus said at length. "It's just a question of how, exactly, Hogwarts plays into things."

"Well, this makes checking out the Hogwarts vault that much more imperative." Sirius said. "For all we know, the answer is tucked away in there."

"What if Dumbledore figured it out?" Fred asked.

That made everyone look at him. "What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"It'd explain why he's being so ... well, him." Fred said. "If he suspected. As alluring as having one of the Founding Families under his sway must be ... having a Founding Family that also controls Hogwarts under his power ... "

Harry nodded. "Especially when he sort of seems to think of Hogwarts as his little kingdom. Mum and dad thought of that, once they'd hidden under the Fidelius and had time to think things out."

"And it explains his interest in and blatant favoritism of your father, as well." Severus said, looking more sour than usual. "Trying to curry favor with someone with that much potential power."

"Except James never fell for it, really." Sirius said. "Oh, he looked to Dumbledore as a leader, but never to the extent a lot of folks do. And then the whole mess with the second prophecy happened, and Harry more or less fell into his lap ... completely defenseless and entirely unknowing of who and what he was. And Dumbledore ran with it. Could have gotten away with it, too, if things had happened a little differently."

"He didn't seem to be showing any signs of worry that Harry knew about Hogwarts, though." George pointed out. "Even after Hogwarts herself started giving him hell."

"Probably because he thinks I'm still in the dark ... that I figured out about being a First Family, but not about Hogwarts. That and he probably doesn't have a clue that Hogwarts is sentient and acting on her own. That she's stripped him of his position, more or less, and that McGonagall is running things behind his back, now." Harry gave a bit of a grin at that. "After all, I'm just a little boy, and Hogwarts is just a building."

"Point." Sirius said.

"I will delay you no longer." Zartank said at that point. "Griphook will take you to whichever vaults you need to visit."

"Five of them." Sirius said. "The Black money vault, the Black and Potter valuables vaults, the Snape and Hogwarts vaults."

"Very well." Zartank waved his hand in an odd pattern, and a few moments later, Griphook arrived.

The six of them packed into two carts that had been linked together, and took off. Their first stop was at Severus' vault, which proved to be about the size of Harry's trust vault, and about as well-populated with galleons. Harry was impressed. He'd learned that Severus hadn't had much when he'd stepped foot into the wizarding world, so the money in the vault was what Severus had earned since he'd graduated. That it equaled what had been provided in Harry's trust vault (or nearly so) was a quiet testament to Severus' skill both at potions and at money husbandry.

Severus withdrew enough to cover the summers' probable expenses, and they headed for the Black money vault, which was of a size with the Potter money vault, and as well stocked with galleons. Sirius pulled out quite a sum, and then they headed for the other vaults. The first stop was the Black vault.

For the first time, Sirius spoke directly to Severus. "Snape, you and Remus come with me. This thing's up to the rafters in dark arts stuff, and I don't want to accidentally grab something malicious." And both men were better at identifying Dark Arts than Sirius was, as he'd eschewed anything to do with the Dark Arts other than kicking its metaphorical ass. "You kids stay out here, and do not come in the vault. Even think about it and I'll give you to him to deal with." Sirius jerked his head at Severus.

The three men disappeared into the vault, and came back out about fifteen minutes later, with only a few books in hand. Most of what had been in the vault had been too dangerous to take out.

"Remind me to talk to Zartank about either breaking the curses on that stuff or getting rid of it." Sirius told Griphook. "It's more or less useless otherwise."

Griphook nodded, and headed them to the Potter valuables vault. Here, everyone disembarked and headed in. The twins couldn't quite stop themselves from staring around them in disbelieving awe at first.

"Right, I've got the ledger here, so we can grab whatever stuff in here looks useful that we don't already have at the castle." Sirius said, pulling the ledger out of his pocket.

Everyone spread out, as the books and scrolls were scattered pretty much everywhere, and started calling out titles, where there were titles visible. Within ten minutes, they'd racked up over a dozen books and scrolls about a myriad of subjects that might be of use to them both in defeating Voldemort and dealing with Severus' Mark. There were others that might have something of use ... but they weren't being brought, because there were no titles, and it would take months, maybe years, to read through (and in some cases, translate) what was written to see if there was anything useful.

Then it was time to head for the Hogwarts vault. All of them were more than a little eager to see what it was like, what might be in there.

At first glance, it looked like one huge library, with dozens and dozens of bookcases, crammed full of books that had been bought for the school, then later 'removed' for whatever reason. There was also a huge rack of neatly stacked paintings that had been commissioned and then later removed.

It wasn't until they got to the very back of the large vault that they found the real treasure. Four podiums, done in House colors, each bearing a single book under so many protection and preservation spells it boggled the mind.

"What are they?" Harry wondered. "I mean, from the colors, probably something specific to the Founders ... but what, exactly?"

"Diaries, possibly." Severus guessed. "They may well have kept a record of their doings, their efforts to build Hogwarts and populate her with students."

"Hermione is going to go nuts." Harry said, sounding very amused. "But I think we can find out for sure what they are ... Godric mentioned that there was a portrait of them at the school at one time, but then it went missing. It had to have come here, unless an Heir removed it, and I think Hogwarts would have noticed that, and remembered it."

It took them a good ten minutes to find the missing portrait, near the bottom of one of the racks of portraits, evidence it had been 'removed' long ago, perhaps shortly after the last publicly known heir from one of the Houses had died childless, or some such. It was then attached, if briefly, to the wall of the vault so that the Founders in the portrait could waken and talk to them. This time, they all shielded themselves from the flash of light that accompanied a portrait waking up.

It took about a minute for this set of Founders to synch with the other portrait, which had been active the entire time the second portrait had been hidden and asleep, and then the Founders were grinning at them.

"Well, I see you've found the place." Godric said. "And yes, those four books are our diaries. Mine starts from about my mid-twenties ... a year or so after I met Salazar. He, being the anal retentive person that he is, kept a diary practically from the moment he could write. So did Rowena." The two Founders so named rolled their eyes at Godric. "Helga, like me, didn't start hers until after we met. Not everything is in the diaries ... there are some things we wanted to keep from prying eyes, like the exact details of what we did to bring Hogwarts to life. It was a complicated process, and one that required a lot of power. Not something for someone to try on the spur of the moment, which many would be tempted to do, if they had a detailed outline of what to do. That and how, exactly, Salazar tamed and trained Shassahshah, aside from the fact that he's a parselmouth helping matters, anyway. Again, not something we wanted to be public knowledge, if one of our heirs found these and decided to publish them."

"You may have noticed that the Potter valuables vault is ... somewhat thin of things, if the Potters are as old as we've said. The reason for that is that everything marked with the Gryffindor crest came here. Only things the Potters collected after the name change, or things that weren't marked with the crest, went into the Potter vault, since the Potter crest, while similar to the Gryffindor one, isn't identical, and the difference would have been noticed. And remarked upon." Rowena said.

"And made people suspicious." Harry said with a nod. "Fair enough. And I imagine all of your stuff came here, since you didn't have an heir when you died?"

"Quite correct." Rowena said. "And many of Helga's things, as well, as property rights for women were ... somewhat different, when we were alive, and this was the only way to ensure they would pass from heir to heir in her case. Every time the heir died, the things were returned here, and had to be retrieved by the next heir, if they wanted them. They could not be kept nor sold by the heir's husband."

"Clever." Sirius said, sounding admiring. "Right, so ... if there's something of use, it'll be here. All right gang ... go nuts."

Which is exactly what they did. They ended up spending the best part of three hours scouring the shelves and finding ... well, an incredible amount of useful information, all of it neatly labeled. Which they found odd until they asked the Founders about it and discovered that upon their appearance in the vault, all books and scrolls had a tag magically applied that detailed their contents, making it that much easier to find what you were looking for, considering there were tens of thousands of books and scrolls in the vault.

Better yet, they were divided into rough categories ... Transfiguration/Charms, Potions/Herbology/Care of Magical Creatures, Dark Arts/DADA, Arts/Crafts, which covered things like making statues, portraits, constructing buildings and such things, Spell Creation/Arithmancy, Warding/Cursebreaking, and a few other general topics. It made finding what they were looking for a lot easier, as they could head for the sections most likely to have what they needed, rather than having to wander the entire vault.

By the time they were done, they had enough books and scrolls to fill three trunks, which Remus and Severus had, thanks be, thought to bring with them. For now, the Founders' diaries stayed where they were ... while the information they contained was doubtlessly fascinating, it wasn't germane to their needs. There'd be another time to bring them out for reading.

Books obtained, they headed into Diagon Alley to make some purchases. In Harry's case, yet another wardrobe of clothing, as he'd finally stopped growing like the proverbial weed, and had caught up to where he was supposed to be. He'd be growing at a normal rate from here on out, so he didn't have to resort to having robes with seven or eight extra inches in the seams, or so it had seemed, when he'd been wearing the ones cut to keep up with his sped-up growing.

The twins also got some new clothes, high-quality robes made for brewing in, woven with heavy-duty protection spells designed to fend off most potion-related disasters. Severus almost started to stock up on an array of ingredients, before he reminded himself it was unnecessary. The Castle had more ingredients than he could possibly use in his lifetime, nevermind a single summer. Sirius and Remus got a few things for themselves, and then it was finally time to head home, just in time for dinner.

Fortunately, the elves had prepared a huge feast, as they'd all been so busy in the vaults they'd missed lunch, and everyone was starving as a consequence. Dinner was accomplished with next to no conversation as they filled their stomachs.

After that, they split up to kick back and relax, and Harry headed for his room so he could regale Hedwig and Hissesh with the day's adventures.

/Sounds like it was quite the day./ Hedwig said when Harry wound down. She was perched in his lap, enjoying a petting. /I could tell you were excited, but you weren't projecting anything my way, you brat./

"So I wanted it to be a surprise when we came back. Nothing wrong with that, is there?/

Hedwig harrumphed. /I suppose not./ She allowed.

"I wonder if we can all become Animagi?" Harry wondered aloud. "I mean, I know Remus can't, because of the werewolf thing, but the rest of us? McGonagall already is, so is Sirius. Maybe we can learn. I know the twins are dying to, so they can emulate their heros." He grinned. "I wonder what sort of snake Severus would become?"

[[A poisonous one.]] Hissesh opined. [[There is no way he's a nonvenomous breed, not with his personality]]

Harry laughed. "And it would fit with his thing for potions, too, since some potions are poisons. Ten galleons says it's something black, too."

[[Not taking that bet]] Hissesh said.

/Me either./ Hedwig said, sounding amused. /Though with our luck, he'd proceed to surprise us and become a garter snake, or some such innocuous creature/

Harry fell onto his back, laughing. "Oh man! I can just see his face, if he did!"


	3. Cruel Intentions

Cruel Intentions

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 3, 1992 Location Unknown

Barty lounged, as best he could, in his current hideout ... a Muggle hotel room. He found it extremely distasteful, but he was intelligent enough to know that his ... opponents ... would not think to look for him in the Muggle world. He was, after all, a pureblood who considered Muggles to be less than the dirt he scraped off his boots.

That said, this location was far less than satisfactory, and truth told, moving from location to location had become tiresome. He would be on the move enough, shortly, seeking his Lord. Having a more amenable base of operations was desirable, if for no other reason than his Lord required the best Barty had to offer, once he had been found and restored.

There was only one person amongst the offal he had to work with that he could even come close to trusting. Lucky for him, that person had the most ... appealing ... places to stay. And dare not refuse Barty, since he had the man firmly under his boot. He smiled as he summoned parchment, quill and ink to write the necessary missive. He wanted to tell Lucius this to his face. Entertainment was difficult to come by, and he would get it where he could.

A few minutes later, and an owl was winging its way to Malfoy Manor with the usual 'use this now' portkey. About a half hour after that, Lucius dropped into the room, then dropped the portkey.

"Ahhh, Lucius. A thought has occurred to me. This summer will be a busy one." Barty gave the man a smile he couldn't see from behind the mask that protected his identity. "And moving from meeting place to meeting place will swiftly become tiresome and cumbersome, as well as too time consuming. In addition, our Lord will require accommodations fit for his use once he is found and restored. A place from which to launch his glorious campaign. Which I have every faith will occur yet this summer. To that end, I have decided that you shall be my host for the summer."

There was the faintest tell-tale twitch at the corner of Lucius' eye that spoke to his displeasure. Barty smiled behind his mask, enjoying confounding the man. It was, after all, less than he deserved for denying their Lord.

"It would be my pleasure to host yourself and the Dark Lord, when that time comes. Though I request a few hours' grace. While my house-elves are diligent in their duties, none of the guest rooms are fully prepared for guests, as we seldom host guests overnight." Lucius said, his voice smooth and devoid of whatever emotions he had to be feeling.

Barty inclined his head. "Very well. I shall arrive in two hours." He told Lucius. "You may go."

Lucius wasted no time in apparating out of there.

Malfoy Manor

The moment he landed in the foyer of his own home, Lucius started cursing inventively, then pulled the mirror out of his pocket. "He is coming here!" Lucius barked, enraged.

Sirius' face appeared in the mirror. "Calm down, Lucius. Tell Draco to keep out of his way. To stay in his rooms as much as is humanly possible. Do as he asks. I'll tear the Black and Potter libraries apart looking for some way to fix this."

Lucius took a few deep breaths and calmed down, then nodded. "Very well." He tapped the mirror off, then summoned Dobby. "Dobby, go and tell Narcissa and Draco that I need to speak to them immediately." He said. "Then tell the other elves they are to gather here for orders."

Dobby bowed and popped out. It wasn't until after Dobby left that an idea hit Lucius that made him grin fiercely.

A few moments later, the foyer was playing host to five house-elves, his wife and his son. Lucius took a deep breath. Narcissa was not going to like this. At all.

"We are to have a guest for the summer." Lucius began, then looked steadily at Narcissa. "Barty." It took everything he had to not back away from the enraged expression on his wife's face. Draco inhaled sharply and began to shake. Lucius immediately closed the distance between them, ignoring his wife for the moment. He half-crouched so he was eye-to-eye with his son.

"Draco, you are to take Nippy and lock yourself in your rooms. You are not to come out for any reason ... even if I or your mother or one of the other elves asks it of you ... unless the elf asking is Dobby. Which I will explain in a moment." He turned to the house-elves. "Nippy, your sole from now on is Draco. You are to stay with him except to bring him food. You are to deny entrance to his rooms to everyone, Human, elf, or otherwise, even myself and Narcissa, except for Dobby. Obtain the food and drink you bring him from anywhere but this manor. If anyone other than Dobby attempts to force their way into Draco's room, you are to get him out of the Manor, then have Dobby escort the both of you to wherever Sirius Black and Harry Potter are. Do you understand?"

Nippy nodded. "Nippy does, Master. Nippy will bes taking care of Master Draco, she will!"

Lucius turned his attention to Dobby.

Dobby had always been an odd one, for his species. Willful, defiant ... independent. It had made dealing with him a trial. But now, Lucius had found a use for that strength of will and independence. He stripped off one of his gloves.

"Dobby, for you, I have the greatest task. You are to watch the guest that arrives here in the next couple hours at all times. You are not to be seen by him, ever. You are to report everything he says, everything he does, to either Harry Potter or Sirius Black after our guest goes to sleep each night. If they find a way to fix the spell Draco is under, you are to return here and take Draco and Nippy to them." He bit back a smile when Narcissa made a sudden noise of understanding. "To protect you, and us, and to give you the independence of movement you require for this task, I hereby give you clothes." He handed over the glove.

All the other house-elves flinched as if they'd been struck a mortal blow, but Dobby just went wide-eyed with glee as he took the glove and cradled it against his chest. "Dobby is doing as Master asks!" He avowed.

Lucius returned his attention to Draco. "We will fix this, and this will end. I swear that to you, son. In the meantime, stay strong, and know we love you."

Draco gave a shaky nod, and then hugged his father. Moments later, Narcissa joined them. After a few minutes, Draco pulled away, and, looking haunted, took Nippy's hand and disappeared.

Narcissa made a strangled noise that was equal parts rage and grief.

Lucius turned to the rest of the house elves. "The three of you will need to ready a room for our guest's use. Know this. He is not a friend. Do nothing to aid him without his express command. Tell him nothing. If he attempts to harm you or force you to harm yourselves, leave his presence instantly. He has no authority to punish you under any circumstances." He waited until he got grim-faced nods from the three remaining house-elves, then gave a nod himself. "Dismissed."

The three elves popped out. Only then did Lucius turn to Narcissa. "He will pay for this." Lucius told her. "By your hand." Because honestly, as angry as he was about this, he didn't have Narcissa's viciously inventive streak. That was a Black trait, and Lucius did not envy Barty one bit once Narcissa was able to get her claws in the bastard.

Narcissa nodded. "And in the meantime, you have done what you can to protect our son."

Because it was entirely possible for Barty to use the two of them against Draco in some way. Or just torment Draco by acting like he was going to activate the spell and make Draco suffer. He could still use the spell ... and unfortunately probably would, at some point, but Draco was effectively beyond his reach now ... even if he tried to force his way into Draco's rooms. It half-killed Narcissa that it was entirely possible Draco wouldn't survive the summer, but what else could they do?

Potter Manor

Harry and the twins spent the morning with Severus, learning the beginning precepts of Occlumency. It didn't start out all that well. Severus' first attempts at teaching them had basically been telling them to 'clear their minds' and 'stop thinking'. Which had resulted in him getting a trio of seriously confused looks.

Severus eyed them for a moment. Occlumency, like potions, came easily to him. It was rather obvious to him how it should be done. He had to remind himself that not everyone was as lucky, and he needed to remember to break it down to the level that had him going 'doesn't everyone know this?'.

That thought in mind, he tried again. "Occlumency is the art of hiding what you are thinking from prying eyes. But in order to hide your thoughts, you must first be aware of when someone is attempting to breach your mind. At this early stage, that requires your full attention be turned inwards, to your own minds."

At which point, Harry got it. At least a little. "So we have to quiet down, calm down, so we have a chance of telling when someone comes knocking." And a particular bit of Muggle trivia occurred to him. "So, basically, meditate?"

Thankfully, Severus, being a Muggle-raised halfblood, got the reference. "Yes." He agreed. "With time, you will not need to stop and meditate ... it will become instinctive and instantaneous to quiet your mind in preparation to hiding your thoughts. Occlumency cannot be performed if you are agitated and upset."

"What's meditating?" Fred wanted to know.

"It's ... hard to explain." Harry admitted. "But it's a Muggle thing. There are books that explain it ... they'd be fairly easy to get. We can do a quick trip yet today and get them." Honestly, Harry was sort of looking forward to introducing the twins to the Muggle world. It promised to be ... entertaining.

"Think we could bring our dad?" George wanted to know. "He loves Muggle stuff, but doesn't get much of a chance to learn much, you know?"

Harry glanced at Severus, then shrugged. "Maybe not this time, but I don't see any reason we can't take him on an outing at some point over the summer." He said.

At that point, there was a knock on the door, and Remus poked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got a problem. Barty's setting up camp at Malfoy Manor."

Severus' mouth twitched. "Lucius will be able to handle it."

"That's what I said. Then Sirius reminded me who his wife was." Remus said.

That made Severus' mouth twitch again. "A valid point. We had best find a solution to their problem swiftly. Narcissa is not a forgiving woman. Fortunately, we are at something of an impasse on Occlumency for today. We need to arrange a short trip to a Muggle bookstore."

"What for?" Remus asked.

"Books on meditation, to explain the process of quieting one's mind, which is an essential step in Occlumency." Severus told him.

"Ahh, yes, that would be important. But a trip isn't needed. I have a few books on that subject among my personal things. I thought it might help." Remus said. It hadn't, but he wasn't going to go into that. "Harry, Fred and George are welcome to borrow them."

"Thanks, Remus." Harry said. "I'll let the twins have first crack at them. I want to see if I can find anything in the library to help with Draco." He knew Remus and Sirius had looked, but it was entirely possible that certain books could only be perused by a Potter. Or a Potter that knew the truth of his ancestry, for that matter.

"Good idea." Remus said, clearly thinking along the same lines.

They all headed out, the twins heading for Remus' room and his books on meditation, and Harry ... with Severus tagging along behind, headed for the library ledger.

"What was the name of that spell, again?" Harry asked as he opened the book.

"Vindico Quod Rectus." Severus told him.

Harry nodded, then opened the ledger, then wrote the name of the spell into the ledger. There was a brief green glow, informing him that there were, indeed, books that had that spell in them. "Hah, yeah, now let's see if they're all the same ones Remus and Sirius went through." Harry said, as they waited for the books to appear on the table next to the podium the ledger was on.

Within seconds, a full two dozen books had appeared.

"Well, that answers that. Sirius mentioned they only found four." Harry said.

It made a certain amount of sense. After all, that spell dated from back before the Gryffindor/Potter switcheroo by quite a bit, which would have put any of the books in the library that had been locked to 'Gryffindors only' in lockdown after the Potters lost the knowledge of their ancestry.

Harry turned to Severus. "Not that I mind, sir, but why are you ... ?"

"It had occurred to me to wonder how Barty knew of the spell." Severus said. "Given that all the oldest Families that might have access to information on that spell are fully accounted for among the Death Eaters aleady ... "

Harry got it. "You think he learned about it from Voldemort himself, whoever he is." Harry said. "And the only reason Voldemort would have to know of and use that spell ... "

"Would be in his Mark." Severus agreed. "It would explain much of how and why the Mark works the way it does."

"Which, given what we know of Voldemort's resources way back when ... which isn't much." Voldemort had rather successfully remained a mystery even to his own followers. Harry drummed his fingers on the table. "Where the hell did he find out about it? Like you said, the families that would have that information are accounted for, one way or the other. So he's at best a bastard of one of the old lines, or from a younger pureblood line. Which means no ready access to books with that sort of information in them. When did he start using them?"

"That, I cannot answer." Severus admitted. "I only know that he had been using the Mark for quite some time before I joined him. The only people that would have a chance of knowing are either dead, or disinclined to tell us what they know. The strongest suspect, however, is a Black." Severus said. "While there are a few other families old enough to have records of the spell, the Blacks would have had a far more complete record, including whatever attempts had been made over the years to defeat the spell. They would also have been the most willing to part with such information."

"Which means the answer, if we don't find it here, is very likely somewhere among the Black library." Harry said. "Sirius is going to love that. Black Manor gives him hives, at least according to him."

Severus snorted, but waved his wand at the books. "I suggest we get comfortable on the third floor. This will take some time."

"No kidding." Harry said, following behind Severus as he headed up the stairs.

Malfoy Manor

Barty arrived at the edge of the Malfoy Manor wards precisely two hours after Lucius left him. He was met, within seconds, by an obsequious house elf.

"Paddy is welcoming yous to Malfoy Manor. You is following Paddy, and Paddy will bring you to the Master and Mistress." The little elf said.

Barty followed it through the wards, across the lawn, and into the Manor. Lucius and Narcissa met him in the foyer, and Lucius escorted him to his room. It wasn't until after Lucius had left that it occurred to Barty that he'd not seen Draco. He thought about it for a minute, and then smiled.

"Well played, Lucius. Well played indeed. Perhaps you are not such a waste of space after all." He murmured.

He contemplated his options. He could torture the boy, but if he was not here for his parents to either hear or find out about it, it served little purpose. And killing the boy would enrage them. So he would leave Draco be for now. He was of no importance. Finding their Lord was what mattered. Once that had been accomplished, Barty would review his options, and perhaps seek the boy's location, to return him to his parents. **Though** Barty thought. **Not in as good condition as he is when I find him. Such treachery must be punished, after all.** It took but a moment to activate the spell. A minute later, he deactivated it.

After all, Lucius and Narcissa might not be able to hear their son's screams, but Draco needed to be reminded that no matter how far he ran, he couldn't hide, and that eventually, Barty would come for him.

HPHPHP

Draco had to move fast, to make his room as appealing as possible for a long-term stay. All his school gear, and his favorite books from the library were tucked away in his room, along with a selection of potions ingredients and a number of vials from the potions storage closet. He also had Nippy grab whatever she thought would be necessary. A half-hour later, they had everything they could think of that they'd need, and Draco locked them both into his room.

"Seal it." He told Nippy. "I don't dare. He might be able to get past anything based on my magic."

Nippy, grim-faced and determined, snapped her fingers several times in succession, then nodded. "We's be safe now, Master. Nobodies but Dobby is being able to gets to us."

Draco shivered. "Safe as we can be." He said. There was still the possibility of Barty just blowing out a wall or three to get to him if he figured out where Draco was. Well, aside from the other option. The one Draco had trained himself to not think about over the last six months.

Learning to live with the knowledge that he could be tortured or killed at any time by a capricious bastard had taken some rather inventive mental adjustments. Draco had quickly learned to not think about it, even tangentially, because doing so had a tendency of making him turn into a gibbering wreck. A state of affairs that was not to be borne. Despite everything, Draco had his pride, still. And Slytherin House was still a pit of vipers who leapt at any perceived weakness ... once Snape's back was turned, anyway. There were very few Slytherins who had the balls to risk tangling with Snape, even before he'd started openly siding with Potter, and had blatantly favored his House. Well, openly in Slytherin terms, anyway.

Thinking about the couple weeks after that particular bit of trivia had percolated through the House brought Draco a much-needed snicker of amusement. A few of the sixth and seventh years had decided that Snape siding with Potter meant he'd gone soft and was an easy target. To say they'd been duly informed of the error of that sort of thinking was to vastly understate the case. Draco had no idea what Snape had done to them, but they'd been remarkably quick to disappear whenever Snape came into the common room, and did everything in their power to avoid his notice, for good or ill. They also spent a lot of time in detentions, though what they had to do and who supervised them was a mystery. Draco had yet to decide if them being supervised by Filch or Snape was worse, given the reason for their punishment.

Nippy made herself a little nest in Draco's very large wardrobe, and curled up there to keep an eye on her charge and the ward that protected the both of them that she'd put up. Well, less of a ward, actually, and more a super-sized version of the protective shield house-elves could use to keep their masters from getting hit by unfriendly spells and falling debris, if they were permitted to fight alongside their masters. At any rate, as long as both she and Master Draco stayed alive, that shield would hold. It helped that she was still owned by a Malfoy, and they were on Malfoy property. While house-elves had their own magic, they could and did tap into the ambient magic of their masters' home, and even the excess magic their masters gave off, if the situation required it.

They'd both managed to relax somewhat when Nippy's connection to the house and its wards informed her of the arrival of their ... guest.

"He's being here, Master." She called softly.

Draco, who's settled on his bed with a book to read ... not that he'd had the concentration to read ... looked up and cursed quietly, his whole body going tense. When a few minutes went by, Draco started to relax.

Which, of course, was precisely when the pain hit.

Draco had heard, and read, descriptions of what the Cruciatus curse felt like. He had a feeling this was worse. It felt like lightning striking down his spine, spiking his limbs, making his muscles seize violently, making him jerk and thrash helplessly as he shrieked in agony.

He was vaguely aware of Nippy catapulting out of her nest to throw a spell at him. The use of which he discovered a few seconds later when a particularly bad spasm threatened to send him sliding off the bed, only for him to bounce off an invisible wall and back towards the center of the mattress. The corner of his mind not busy with writhing in agony managed **Well, at least I won't break my head open on the floor** before it got silenced by the pain.

And as fast as it started, it was over. Draco lay on the bed, panting and shaking, both from pain and fear, his entire body tense, waiting for another round. When one wasn't immediately forthcoming, he relaxed a bit, and allowed a thoroughly distressed Nippy to fuss over him and ply him with (much needed) pain potions.

"I'll be all right, Nippy. It wasn't that bad."

This time, anyway. The first time ... gods, that had been horrible. Not that he'd been aware of it at the time, but he'd evidently been held under the curse for about ten minutes before Barty had let it lapse. He'd been awake for about two of it, he was fairly sure, before Severus forced the anesthetic potion down his throat. He was glad he hadn't been awake for the rest of it. He was fairly sure that if he had been, he'dve ended up joining Longbottom's parents in St. Mungo's if he had been. He'd certainly hurt like he was dying when they finally woke him up, after.

Nippy patted him on the arm. "If you's being sure, Master." She said.

Draco managed to summon something like a smile for her. "I'm sure."

He could only hope this was the only time the bastard did that. Because he wasn't sure just how much of that he could take.

HPHPHP

After he'd had his ... entertainment ... Barty left the room he'd been given and headed off to find Lucius, whom he found in the library, perusing a history book. How very droll.

"Ahhh, Lucius. Your potion supplies are well-stocked." It wasn't a question.

"Of course." Lucius said.

Barty had the distinct impression that Lucius was grinding his teeth. He smirked behind his mask.

"I will require certain ingredients of you. There is a chance that a certain potion can aid us in locating our Lord." Barty said. It was a long shot, he was willing to admit, even if only to himself, but he had nothing better to go on, at the moment. And in this case, to attempt it and have it fail was better than to not attempt it.

"Ahh, yes. The Lost Soul potion. Though I doubt it will work. There cannot be that much left of our Lord to find." Lucius wasn't sure that potion would work on something that had been reduced to ... well, whatever the Dark Lord had been reduced to after trying to kill Potter.

"Perhaps not, but it is worth the attempt." Barty snapped sharply.

Lucius managed to convey a shrug without actually shrugging. "As you wish. The lab is in the basement, first door on your left. You'll find everything you need down there."

Barty nodded, and headed downstairs.

Hidden in the spaces between 'here' and 'there', a non-place that house-elves used when they did not wish to be detected, Dobby frowned in alarm. Master had told him to watch this one at all times, and to report when he slept.

But this ... was important. And the bad man would be done before dark. He would also be very busy for the next hour or so, in the lab. Now, Dobby began to understand why Master had set him free. He needed to be able to defy orders, if the need came up.

He turned his attention outward, seeking Harry Potter's magical signature. House elves constantly traded information about magical signatures, since they could and frequently were requested to go somewhere and find someone they'd never met before. Magical signatures were unique, and could be tracked long distances, if one were a house-elf.

Ahhh, there. Surrounded by heavy wards, too. What surprised him is that there was house-elf magic woven into the wards. How that had been done, he hadn't the faintest notion, but if he was reading them right, he was going to have to pop just outside the wards. He was fairly sure the wards would toss him out if he tried to pop through them.

Dobby popped to just outside the wards, and 'pushed' at them with his magic, knowing the house-elves would sense it. Sure enough, a few moments later, an elderly house-elf popped into view just on the other side of the wards.

"What is yous wanting?" He (Dobby could tell it was male) asked.

"I is being asked by my master to spy on a bad man." Dobby said. "And then tells Harry Potter sir or Sirius Black sir what I sees the bad man do, and what the bad man says. Bad man does something very bad, that the great Harry Potter sir must knows about right away."

The elderly elf eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "I gets Master." He said, then popped away.

HPHPHP

Toker popped into the room just a foot or two away from Harry, who was deep into one of the books he'd gotten from the library.

"Master Harry sir? There bes a house-elf outside the wards. He bes wanting to talk to you." Toker told him.

"A house elf? Talk to me?" Harry repeated. "Who is it? And who sent him?"

"He bes a Malfoy elf, sir. Or was, until recently. He still has their magics on him." Toker told him.

That made Severus, who was sitting nearby glance up sharply. "Still has?" He demanded.

"He is being free now, Master Snape." Toker told him.

That made Severus frown. "Why on earth?"

"Elf is saying he is being told to watch bad man, and tells Master what hes be doing and saying." Toker said.

That cleared Severus' expression. "Ahhh, that explains it then. He'd need to be able to act far more independently than still being owned and having to depend on a master's orders would permit."

Harry had already marked his place in the book, and was getting to his feet. "Well, if Lucius sicced this elf on Barty and told him to watch him and report, I'm all for seeing what he's up to that has this elf here so soon after the guy arrived at Malfoy Manor."

"Quite." Severus agreed, marking his place in his own book and rising to his feet. "We should not keep him waiting."

"I takes you both." Toker said, then took their hands and popped them out to where the elf was waiting.

Harry frowned a little when he saw the elf, and the pitable condition of its garment, then forced his expression back to something pleasant as he walked close to the edge of the wards. "Hello there. What's your name?"

Dobby took a great, quivery breath, like he was halfway to crying or something, but managed to get hold of himself. "I is Dobby, Harry Potter sir." He said. "Master Lucius is telling Dobby to watch the bad man that comes to the Manor. Dobby is remembering what he says, and what he does, and is telling Harry Potter sir or Sirius Black sir. And the bad man is being very, very bad, so Dobby had to come, to warn you."

"What's he doing, then?" Harry wanted to know.

"He is making a potion, sir. One that cans find anybody. It bes called the Lost Soul potion. He is being able to track ... " Dobby gulped. "Master's master, once it bes done. Theys finds him yet tonight, if it works!"

Harry grimaced. That was definitely not good news. "I wonder why he's not used it before now?" He asked aloud.

"Probably too busy consolidating his position among the Death Eaters." Severus said. "Getting them to look to him as leader would take some time, and they would contest his suggestions until that time."

Harry nodded, then frowned. "Hey, how did you find me?" He wanted to know. Yes, Potter Manor was known to folks, but it wasn't common knowledge that Harry was living there.

"I's be following yous magic, Harry Potter sir. Nobodys' magics be the same, sir." Dobby said.

Harry glanced at Severus, then looked at Dobby. "Dobby ... do you know who the bad man at Malfoy Manor is? He's not told anyone his name."

"But he has, sir! Hes be telling Master Lucius sir in his letter, when he tells Master sir he is doing bad things to Master Draco."

Harry's eyes went wide. "So he really is Barty Crouch Junior?"

"Yes, Harry Potter sir."

Severus glared at thin air for a moment. "How is that possible. He died in Azkaban."

"Thank you for telling us, Dobby." Harry said, then looked at Severus. "Is there anything that can be done to ruin the potion?"

Severus immediately shook his head. "Not without Dobby making his presence known. The potion has to be tended the entire time it's brewing. There's no long period of time when you can leave the room while it simmers, or any such." He looked down at Dobby. "If the potion works and gives them a location, return here immediately and tell us where." He told the elf.

Dobby nodded frantically. "Dobby will. Dobby goes back now." And he popped away.

"This ... is going to get ugly. Fast." Harry said.

"We need to tell the others." Severus agreed. "We might be able to thwart their reunion, even if we can't stop them finding out where Voldemort is."


	4. Revelations and Reunions

Revelations and Reunions

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 3, 1992 Various Locations

Malfoy Manor

Unaware of Dobby watching him, or the fact his enemies now knew who he was, Barty worked industriously in the basement potions lab.

The Lost Soul potion, despite its name, did not seek out a person's soul. It was just a name bestowed on the brew by an overly poetic creator. It had been created by a potions master many centuries prior, after their eldest daughter had been kidnapped. The spells of the day had been of no use in finding her. Indeed, even now, there were no spells that revealed a person's exact location, just their general direction, and even these could be confounded by other spells, particularly the Fidelius spell.

Polyjuice potion had been a fairly new invention at the time, and the potions master had been inspired by it. If it was possible to become someone else via adding a bit of someone to a potion, surely there was a way to find someone by similar means. It turned out they were right, though the breakthrough came too late for their own daughter, who was found dead two days after her kidnapping. The potion's master had not stopped working on the potion despite that, determined that no one else would have to suffer what they'd gone through. Barty supposed that under the circumstances, they were lucky the creator hadn't named it after their daughter.

Properly brewed, the Lost Soul potion produced a thick pale purple goop to which some bit of the person sought was added. Fingernails, hair, or the like were preferred, but the potion had been known to work when scrapings from a much-treasured belonging were added. The mixture was then spread thinly across a map or globe. The person's location would glow a bright purple. It was possible, provided you made enough of the potion, to spread it across increasingly detailed maps of increasingly smaller areas until you had a precise location, to within a matter of feet of the person you sought. Better, the potion couldn't be confounded by any spells Barty knew of, and would find the person, dead or alive, except in a couple cases where the body had been cremated to ash. It gave him hope the potion would be able to find his Lord.

Barty had been one of two people entrusted with something of the Dark Lord that could be used to find him, the other being Bellatrix. A small vial with a half-dozen hairs that Barty had managed to keep secret from everyone, even the other Death Eaters. The only question was whether or not the potion could find the Dark Lord in his current state, whatever that might be. Well, they would soon find out.

The trade off for a much-reduced brewing time compared to Polyjuice was the fact that the potion had to be tended to every moment of its six-hour brewing time, with constant additions and changes in stirring patterns and number of stirs. For the first time, Barty regretted the fact that Snape wasn't to be trusted, because the man could have done this potion in his sleep, just about. The man may have been a half-blood, and was very likely a traitor, but he'd had his uses. Barty couldn't afford to lose concentration for a moment, as he was nowhere near the brewer Snape was.

Potter Castle

Within ten minutes of Harry and Severus finding out what was going on at Malfoy Manor, the Castle was a beehive of activity. What seemed like half the Weasley clan was now in residence, along with Augusta and Neville. Cedrella and Sirius, being Blacks, had gone to Black Manor to raid the Black library for any books of use in breaking the Mark and/or the slave spell. Augusta and Neville had brought books from their own library, which, while not as old as the Potter and Black libraries, was still quite impressive and extensive. Septimus had brought what books the Weasley library had to offer, though he admitted that, thanks to the perpetual lack of funds the Weasleys faced through the centuries, their library was nowhere near as impressive as most pureblood libraries.

When Cedrella and Sirius returned, the books were pooled in the center of the formal dining room's table, and everyone gathered around to read what books they could, or take notes for those who had to read books due to limitations set on who could read the book. Harry was more than a little relieved when Bill, an experienced cursebreaker, plunked himself down beside Harry and started giving him pointers on what to look for in the books he was having to go through.

While they were scouring the books, the word had gone out to the Alliance that they were going to be attempting to thwart the Death Eaters far more openly than had been done thus far, and that, in all likelihood, the true makeup and leadership of the Alliance was going to be revealed, as there was simply no way that Dumbledore would ever have permitted the sort of fighting that was going to result if the Lost Soul potion was successful. Because there was no way in hell any of them were just going to sit back and let the Death Eaters get their hands on Voldemort, whatever state he was in, unchallenged.

With just an hour to go on the clock before the potion was ready, Sirius suddenly shot forward in his seat.

"I found it. I got it! Listen to this: Vindico Quod Rectus cannot be removed from the victim by any current means, nor by any means I have discovered were used in the past, save the death of the caster. The spell can, however, be transferred to a different controller, as it is the rare slave that stays with but one master. However, the transferal spell must be performed by the wand that applied the spell initially."

"So all we have to do is steal his wand." Remus said, looking pleased. "Which would be easy enough to do once he's asleep. We can ask Dobby to do it."

"But to whom would we transfer the spell?" Septimus wanted to know.

That's when Neville spoke up. "My parents." He said quietly. "They're alive, and physically in good health ... but they're never ... " He broke off, and Augusta gently gripped his shoulder, her own face strained.

"They will never be able to command or punish Draco." Augusta finished, her voice strained. "He would be able to live his life wholly normally."

"Could we attach the spell to someone who's dying?" Cedrella asked.

"No idea." Sirius said. "It doesn't say, and honestly, it's not really worth the risk ... they could end up taking Draco with them. I know that doesn't happen when the spell's been attached a while, but I wouldn't put it past the creator of this spell to make sure such a simple solution wouldn't work. Besides, we have no idea who might be dying there right now, nor do we have uncontested access to them. We've got access to the Longbottoms without stirring up unnecessary trouble. Besides, we can always steal his wand again later if we find out it can be transferred to someone who's dying. Right now we just want to get Draco out of his clutches."

Cedrella grimaced. "Point." She agreed. "The Longbottoms it is, then ... and thank you, Augusta, Neville, for being willing to volunteer them for this. I know it can't be easy."

"We need a second option, though, just in case the spell won't transfer due to their mental condition." Sirius said. "Again, because I wouldn't put it past the bastard that created the spell to have provided for something like that."

That had everyone looking at each other for a moment, trying to figure it out. "Narcissa." Cedrella said after a few moments. "The good knows she wouldn't torment her son, if it came to that. And if a direct relative can't be used ... " She sighed as she tried to think.

"Hagrid." Harry said after a few moments. "He'd never in a million years hurt Draco like that. Draco'd hate it, because he's not really a fan of Hagrid's, but it's the best option I can think of short of Hogwarts herself, and somehow I don't think the spell would work on a building, even if she is sentient."

"Ok, we've got our ducks in a row. I'm heading over to Black Manor. Not going to let Draco here unless he gives an oath." Sirius said. Considering that neither Narcissa nor Lucius had been inside Potter Castle, it wasn't like he was picking on Draco.

"I'll go with you. Someone will need to keep an eye on him tonight, whether he takes the oath or not." Cedrella said. "Especially since his mother will probably not be able to come with him." Then again, she ... and Lucius ... just might bolt for the hills once Draco was clear. You never knew.

Sirius nodded. "The help will be appreciated." He said. He wasn't looking forward to having to deal with the snobby brat, to be honest. Though it was entirely possible Draco had learned something over the last six months. Stranger things had been known to happen.

Sirius and Cedrella left, and the rest of them broke into smaller groups, talking quietly and eyeing the time repeatedly, waiting with baited breath to see what would happen next.

Black Manor

As soon as Sirius and Cedrella were through the floo, Sirius called out for Dobby.

Dobby popped in instantly, eyes wide and ears perked up, clearly hopeful.

"We've got a solution to Draco's problem, but we won't be able to enact it until late tonight, when Barty is asleep." Sirius told him. "We will need you to steal his wand for us."

Dobby nodded determinedly. "Dobby cans be doing that, Master Black sir."

Sirius grinned. "So here's what's going to happen. As soon as Barty is asleep, you snitch his wand. Then you go find Narcissa and Lucius ... and tell them we can rescue Draco. If they want to come with, they're welcome to. Whether it's the three of them or just Draco, they're to be brought here, to Black Manor. NOT to Potter Castle. They'd get bounced off the wards there."

Dobby nodded again. "Dobby understands." He said.

"Once we've got the wand and Draco, we'll be making a field trip to St. Mungo's. And possibly Hogwarts, depending on whether or not the spell will attach to our first choice of person."

"Attach, Master Black sir?"

"Unfortunately, the spell can't be broken unless Barty is killed ... which is an exceedingly dangerous proposition, because he could potentially set off the spell if he sees his death coming." Sirius said. "But it can be transferred to a 'new owner' so to speak. We've got someone in mind to be the 'new owner'. It's someone who can't and won't hurt Draco." Sirius explained.

Dobby nodded his understanding. "Dobby goes back, now. Potion almost ready."

"Yeah, we know. Don't forget to let us know if it pinpoints a location ... and thank you for all your help." Sirius told the little guy.

Dobby turned about ten shades of red before he disappeared.

Cedrella huffed out a laugh. "Amusing little thing, isn't he?"

"Definitely." Sirius agreed. "And sorry to stick you here for a couple hours." He grimaced around the still filthy, dismal, depressing house. "Though who knows, maybe Kreacher will listen to you better than he does me. Oh, by the way, he's forbidden to leave the manor for any reason. So don't let him con you." Sirius said, then bellowed for Kreacher.

Kreacher showed up about two minutes later, shuffling in as slow as he dared, giving Sirius a death-glare and muttering under his breath ... or, well, maybe not so 'under', given that both Sirius and Cedrella could hear him clearly. His muttering didn't even slow down when he spotted Cedrella. But never let it be said that Cedrella wasn't a Black. She smiled at Kreacher. The sort of smile that makes anyone with sense back up a couple steps in fear, or at least anxiety.

"Kreacher. It has been so very long." Cedrella purred. "I've missed you so."

Kreacher looked ... horrified at this.

Cedrella drew closer, half-circling the elf. "I was so looking forward to returning to Black Manor, Kreacher. Truly, I was. It is a magnificent home." Then, her faux-sweet tone and faux-friendly smile changed abruptly. "Or it was." She snapped. "You were entrusted with a solemn duty, elf, and you have failed, utterly. This house is a disgrace to the name of Black! Our ancestors would weep to see the state of their home! How dare you! How DARE you defy your masters and ignore your duty?"

She whirled on Sirius, who couldn't quite prevent himself from taking a half-step back. "I am afraid we will have to house the Malfoy family elsewhere, Sirius. Black Manor is nowhere near being habitable, nevermind suitable for their needs."

Behind her, Kreacher made an agonized noise. Sirius, realizing what Cedrella was up to, played along. He sighed heavily. "You're right. I'll see to it one of the lesser Potter properties is prepared for their residence. The Potter elves, at least, know their duty."

Kreacher made another horrified, strangled noise. It took everything Sirius had to not fall over laughing. Insofar as Kreacher was concerned, Narcissa and Bellatrix were the only 'true' Blacks still living. To be told the Manor wasn't fit for their residence here, and that Potter elves would have the honor of attending them at another location, had to be giving the recalcitrant elf a heart attack.

"I suppose, in that case, it might be possible for Kreacher to be permitted to watch." Sirius said. "So that he might see how proper elves perform their duties, as he seems to require a refresher course on proper elf behavior."

That got a horrified shriek. "Kreacher clean, Kreacher clean!" Kreacher squalled, then started snapping his fingers so fast and hard Sirius was half-afraid he'd break his fingers.

"If, on the other hand, the Manor is presentable by the time they arrive, Kreacher perhaps can be permitted to serve, in a limited capacity. He has yet to earn my trust." Sirius finished. Then he focused on Cedrella. "I'll leave you to keep an eye on things, shall I?" Then he turned to Kreacher. "You may speak to Cedrella. You will follow her orders as if I have given them myself."

That got another wail from Kreacher, and a redoubling of his efforts to clean.

Cedrella nodded, smirking at Sirius over Kreacher's head. "I'll see what I can do."

Sirius nodded and left before he lost his composure. The moment he was back at Potter Castle, he collapsed into a chair in the Entance Parlor and howled with laughter, which brought several people running.

"What?" Harry demanded as he skidded to a halt just inside the room.

"Cedrella." Sirius managed between bursts of laughter. "Is magnificent."

"Not that I didn't already know that." Septimus said, coming up behind Harry with a smile. "But what did she do?"

"Kreacher." Sirius sputtered, then took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get his laughter under control. "She completely played him. He let the Manor go to rack and ruin. Which, really, I could care less ... I hate the place. Always have and always will. But he shouldn'tve let it go like that. She just played him like a fiddle. Mentioned the Malfoys, and said the Manor wasn't fit for their residence, so they'd have to go to a Potter property and be tended by Potter elves. You should have seen the look on his face ... and heard his reaction. I've never seen a house-elf move so fast in my life."

Septimus snickered. "That would get a house-elf right where they lived." He agreed. "Especially one with as low an opinion of certain other families as Kreacher has to have. I've heard tales about him from Cedrella."

"He is rather infamous." Sirius agreed. "Though, at least partially in his defense, he was my mother's personal elf. And Walburga ... "

Septimus waved a hand. "Enough said right there. I'm not all that much older than her."

"That must have been fun." Sirius said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Septimus snorted. "Oh, it was, trust me. Though I got out of the worst of it. Claudius was the same year as she was in Hogwarts." He said, referring to one of his younger brothers. "I have long had a sneaking suspicion that she was why he fled England when he graduated."

Which made Sirius laugh. "I wouldn't blame him a bit." He admitted.

Malfoy Manor

The potion was ready. Barty carefully spread a map of England out over an empty table. It was, perhaps, unwise to begin with such a small area, but Barty reasoned that his Lord had been on the island when he was ... disembodied. There was little reason to suppose his Lord had left the island. It would have been a simple enough matter to hide somewhere he could not be easily found, even in that fairly limited area.

Carefully, he began to decant the purple potion, spreading it thinly over the map. Once the entire map had been covered, he equally carefully settled the cauldron, which still held enough potion for several more tries, on the table, then turned to observe the map.

Slowly, the potion was absorbed by the parchment, disappearing as if he'd never spread the stuff on it. It took a minute for him to realize the absorption seemed to be occurring in a systematic manner. Despite the fact he'd started at the top (North) of the map, the bottom (South) edge was drying and disappearing first. Barty felt his heart flutter. Was it possible ... ? He barely breathed, staring at the map with renewed hope.

He could not restrain a slightly manic, hyper laugh when the northernmost half of Scotland started to glow purple. For one ... it meant his Lord had been located. For another ... that particular section of Scotland also played host to Hogwarts. Which meant his Lord could, potentially, be at the school. Barty wondered what Dumbledore would have to say about that, if it were true.

Quickly, he scrabbled through a collection of maps until he found a close-up of Scotland and shoved the larger map out of his way. Within a few minutes, he had the second map coated ... and glowing.

Specifically, the area around the town of Keith, which lay a little to the east of Hogwarts, which sat more or less in the middle of a rough V created by Elgin, Craigellachie and Keith. Keith sat on the far side of the Forbidden Forest, not that the Muggles knew the woods by that name, of course. Craigellachie lay to the south of Hogsmeade and the lake, while Elgin lay to the west and a bit north of Hogwarts.

They had little time to lose. Barty straightened and headed out of the potions lab to gather his Lord's troops, such as they were. It was time to return their Lord to his rightful place.

Town of Keith outskirts

Lord Voldemort snarled mentally as he drove the adder he'd forced to do his bidding to keep slithering. It had almost been two months since his exceedingly ignominous ... no, he refused to call it a defeat. He, Lord Voldemort, had not, and never would be, truly defeated. It had merely been a setback.

Still, it had been highly irritating, all the same. While the lure of the Philosopher's Stone had been strong, Voldemort had badly miscalculated in his plan. He had forgotten to figure the brats into the equation. He'd been so concentrated on the staff as the only true threat he'd forgotten that the brats could be every bit as dangerous, if in a different, less lethal way. Worse, he'd had to restrain himself from ordering Quirrell to hex the little bastards every time Quirrell got pranked. Dumbledore would have taken notice of his students being hexed like that, and Voldemort did not want that ruddy old goat to know he was there.

Worse, he had been forced to admit that Severus was not loyal to him. Oh, it wasn't as if Severus went around declaring himself Dumbledore's most fervent follower or anything so overt, but the signs were there. Severus' loss was a bitter blow. Even as little more than a boy a decade ago, Severus had been intelligent, competent, and capable ... traits that many of Lord Voldemort's followers had not possessed ... or at least, not all of them at the same time.

And then, to be forced to leave Hogwarts without his prize ... that had, indeed, been a bitter blow. He, however reluctantly, gave the staff their due. They had crafted a surprisingly effective series of traps. He would have to wring from them precisely what they had done, as such might be useful to his own defenses, and he had not encountered such things before.

It had taken him more than a month to recover from having to abandon Quirrell, and then the better part of two weeks to force one animal after another to march through the forest, heading for the coast, abandoning each one and finding another as their bodies gave out under the strain of hosting him. It would be a long trip to return to Albania, but that was the best place for him to truly recover from this setback.

From one moment to the next, the field he was crossing went from empty to ... very much over full with people.

HPHPHP

When Dobby popped in to tell them where Voldemort was, Sirius lost absolutely no time. Within two minutes, the entirety of the UK-based Alliance apparated into a field just on the outskirts of the little town. There were a few moments of confusion when there was no obvious Voldemort presence. They knew he had to be here somewhere, but where? Before they could do much more than that, Barty and the rest of the Death Eaters arrived.

There was a split second where nothing happened, where both sides stared at each other, tallying up numbers, and, in the case of the Death Eaters, recovering from the surprise of being ambushed. Sirius swore he could see apprehension in more than one pair of eyes as the Death Eaters realized they were rather badly outnumbered, at the moment. And then all hell broke loose, as spells started flying everywhere.

Sirius and Remus immediately, almost instinctively, went back-to-back, a decade's separation nowhere near long enough to overcome that habit when under fire. About ten feet away, the Weasley cadre, comprised of Septimus, Cedrella, Arthur and Bill were hammering one of the larger knots of Death Eaters. Unsurprisingly, Augusta had gone straight for Barty. She had an axe or two to grind with him, after all. Sirius just hoped that Barty didn't trigger the spell on Draco ... and that Augusta left Narcissa something to chew on.

Everywhere Sirius looked, the Alliance was doing its level best to annihilate the Death Eaters. Granted, they were not using Unforgivables, but there was some damn creative use of other spells going on. What surprised Sirius was Severus.

Severus ... well, hell. Severus might as well have been Death himself. Sirius saw him take down three Death Eaters inside of thirty seconds, and none of them was getting back up again. Not for the first time did Sirius find himself grateful the snarky bastard was on their team. Having to deal with him as an enemy would have been ... bad. To put it mildly.

And then, as abruptly as they arrived, a cry went up, and seconds later, they were gone, leaving the Alliance standing there, staring around in confusion.

"What the hell? Did they get ... was he even here?" Burke asked.

"Easy enough to find out. I'll call Dobby in about five, ten minutes. They'll have gotten themselves straightened out by then." Sirius said.

HPHPHP

It had taken Voldemort less than five seconds to realize the first group to arrive were not his followers, and were, therefore, a threat. He did not have time to contemplate how they were able to divine his whereabouts before the Death Eaters arrived and things got interesting.

Voldemort did at least try to participate, but it only took three attempts for him to realize that everyone he wanted dead seemed to be wearing dragonhide boots, which adder fangs had not a hope of penetrating. Nor was the adder's body long enough to reach above the level of the boots. He promptly took refuge under a rock, to keep from being trampled in the melee, waiting and watching.

Then he heard Barty's distinctive voice, yelling for the Death Eaters to 'find our lord'. To say Voldemort was pleased to hear that voice was to understate the case. Barty, alongside Severus and Abraxas, Lucius' father (and later Lucius himself), had been Voldemort's most valuable follower.

A few well-timed darts, and he'd reached Barty. He slithered up Barty's body, and there was a few moments' choas as Barty instinctively tried to be rid of him, probably thinking it was a spell effect. But then Voldemort reached his face. Where Barty could see the red, glowing eyes the adder was sporting.

It took him less than ten seconds to figure it out, and then he breathed and ecstatic "My Lord." before bellowing for the Death Eaters to withdraw and apparating to safety himself.

Once they had arrived at what Voldemort quickly divined was Malfoy Manor, Barty began barking orders, commanding that animals be brought for Voldemort to transfer into, as such was nearer to hand at the moment, and dispatching six of the least wounded to capture a wizard somewhere for Voldemort to use. That done, Barty headed for the basement to begin the month-long process of creating a homunculus, bringing the adder playing host to Voldemort with him, as well as two of Malfoy's prized white peacocks.

All without Voldemort having to even try to convey his requirements. This was why Barty was one of his more valuable followers. He knew how to get things done.

As Barty worked to get the potions for the homunculus started, he filled his Lord in on the events of the last decade, though his account ... lacked, somewhat, mostly because he only knew what the papers had reported and what he'd overheard the Death Eaters talking about since he'd gotten them back together again.

"The Potter brat is ... not quite what anyone expected, I do not think, my Lord." Barty said, when he finally got to that part of the report. "He has a familiar, a snowy owl. He is also a parselmouth, and has a snake, a large python by all reports. Somehow, he got Black freed." Barty wasn't real clear on the details of that, as most of the Death Eaters hadn't been there.

And, Voldemort knew, the Potter brat had been leading Dumbledore a merry dance. He still hadn't quite decided how to handle the brat, because Barty was right ... Potter was not what Voldemort had expected him to be.

Eventually, Barty had to put the cauldrons under a stasis charm, and held the door open for the peacock, which was lasting longer than the other animals Voldemort had used simply by dint of the fact that Voldemort wasn't driving it to the end of its endurance physically to get where he wanted to go, on top of the damage being done the animal's body by his possession of it.

HPHPHP

Two hours later, in the dead of night, long after Barty had fallen asleep, Dobby eased himself out of the non-place and tiptoed over to the nightstand where Barty had left his wand. A lightning-quick snatch and he was tucking his prize into the folds of his pillowcase, then disappearing back into the non-place.

He slipped towards Master and Mistress' room, and was pleased to find them both still awake, if only just.

"Master." Dobby called quietly as he appeared in the room. "Master Black is telling me to tells you he is finding a way to help Master Draco. That it bes done tonight."

Both Lucius and Narcissa gave whole-body quivers of relief before looking at each other, mentally tallying the options, pros and cons.

"We will stay." Narcissa said finally. "I am sure our Lord would not begrudge me vengeance." If only because Voldemort was a bit smarter than Barty, and knew exactly what sort of reputation the Black family had, and that it was entirely deserved.

Lucius nodded his agreement. "We may yet be of some use to Black." They were the closest thing to spies the Alliance had, since Severus was not going to be returning to the Death Eater fold. And if things got dicey, they could always escape via Dobby or another of their elves.

Dobby nodded firmly. "Dobby goes then, and takes Master Draco to safety." He said, and popped out.

Black Manor

Cedrella sat back on a chaise lounge, a goblet of wine in hand, and gazed around the Manor with a distinctly amused smirk.

Sirius had gotten most of the ground floor in marginally tolerable condition with the help of Jinks, but he'd left it at that, since no one was living there and he hated the place. It hadn't been worth the headache of fighting with Kreacher.

But now, thanks to Cedrella's manipulations, the ground floor, half the basement (where the kitchen was) and the first floor of bedrooms positively gleamed, like the place had never been allowed to go to ruin at all. Kreacher had been working nonstop, muttering under his breath. Though, for once, the muttering wasn't about halfbloods, muggle lovers, and traitors and how much he despised and hated them. No, it was a gleeful monologue about finally having a worthy Black to serve again, and how the manor had to be perfect for them.

It was about one in the morning when Kreacher popped into the room where Cedrella had ensconced herself, visibly vibrating with eagerness.

"Bad elf comes. Bad elf comes with good Master Draco sir." Kreacher rambled.

Cedrella put aside the goblet. "You will stand there, and not move, nor speak until given permission." She commanded, pointing at a spot off to one side. "If, and only if the Manor meets Draco's expectations, will you be permitted to serve him in any capacity, and even then, only as Sirius or I permit."

Kreacher shivered, eyes wide, but obeyed, standing where he'd been commanded to. A few moments later, Dobby, Nippy, Draco and a trunk full of Draco's belongings appeared a few feet away. Draco blinked at Cedrella for a moment in confusion.

"Sirius wasn't sure he'd be here when you arrived, due to the events of the evening." Cedrella told him. "So he asked me to be here in his stead." Cedrella told him.

Then she gave the boy a compassionate look. He looked ... not good. The last six months had clearly put a hell of a strain on him. He was thin, and paler even than his normal pale skin-tone, and visibly a bit ragged, now that he wasn't at school and having to put up a front of 'all is well' for his Housemates.

"I'll just floo him and let him know you're here, and then we'll head out to get that ... spell ... taken care of." Cedrella smiled at him. "And then your dear mother can have Barty's guts for garters like I know she's longing to."

That got a smile out of Draco, because yes, his mother would be having fun with Barty, the Dark Lord be damned.

Dobby stepped forward. "Here is being the wand that Master Black wanted." He said."

Cedrella took it. "Thank you, Dobby. You've been of inestimable help."

Dobby looked thoroughly pleased.

"What is your elf's name?" Cedrella asked.

"Nippy." Draco told her.

"Well, Nippy, the first room on the left up the stairs has been set aside for your master's use, so why don't you bring his trunk up there? And Draco, you can take a brief tour of the Manor while we wait for Sirius ... I don't believe you've ever been here."

Draco shook his head. "No ... Lord Black died before I was born, and Walburga stopped permitting visitors at that point."

"If anything does not meet your approval, let me know." Cedrella said. "It would seem that Kreacher here became ... lazy ... in the absence of direct orders."

Draco nodded, and headed for the stairs, shooting a trembling Kreacher a half-disgusted look. "Well, I'll not be allowing an elf dressed like that anywhere near me." He pointed out.

Given that Kreacher's 'clothes' were in worse repair than Dobby's, Cedrella didn't much blame him.

Once Draco was upstairs, Cedrella sent off a patronus message to Sirius. Sirius came through the floo a few minutes later.

"How's it go?" Cedrella wanted to know.

"They got Voldemort, but we killed about six of them ... all lesser members, of course, given who's free to be running around causing trouble, but still, it's a better tally than Dumbledore usually managed." Sirius told her.

Cedrella nodded. "Agreed. Even after it became clear that Azkaban 'lost' Death Eaters nearly as fast as they arrived, he refused to authorize a more permanent solution to the problem. If he had, the war might have ended a lot sooner than it did."

"No kidding." Sirius said, sounding disgusted.

Draco came down the stairs a few moments later. "The room looks good. Provided he cleans himself up, I have no problem with allowing him to serve, in whatever capacity you're willing to allow him."

Cedrella nodded. "Kreacher will have a new, clean pillowcase before we return." She said, eyeing the elf significantly. Kreacher nodded fervently.

"Right." Sirius said. "Before we go, need to fill you in on what's happening. What we found doesn't break the spell ... only the death of the caster can do that, which, for understandable reasons, no one was willing to risk. Wasn't worth it if he managed to set the spell off."

Draco nodded his agreement.

"That said, we found out that the spell can be transferred to a 'new owner'. We're going to try to switch the spell out to one of the Longbottoms." Sirius said. "Neither of them will ever be able to use the spell against you, which would allow you to live your life out normally. If it won't attach to them, we have a second option in mind ... which you probably won't be happy about, so let's all hope it works with the Longbottoms." Sirius grinned at Draco. "We're going to continue doing research on it ... mostly to find out if it would be possible to transfer the spell to someone who is going to die very shortly without it taking you with them. If that's possible, we'll switch the spell to someone who fits the bill, and then you'll truly be out from under the spell."

Draco made a bit of a face. Being 'slaved' to the Longbottoms was ... well, distasteful didn't quite cover it. But it was better than a lot of other choices, because Sirius was right ... the Longbottoms would never be able to use the spell against him.

"Augusta is at St. Mungo's, waiting for us." Sirius said. "So let's go. Faster we get this done, the better. I want to get Barty's wand back to him quick, before he realizes it's gone."

July 4 (very early), St. Mungo's

Augusta was indeed waiting for them, her son's wand in hand, as they would need it to complete the transfer.

It had taken Sirius and Draco a few minutes to sneak somewhere they really weren't supposed to go, but they'd gotten there, and now Draco stood at the end of Frank's bed, with Sirius, holding Bart's wand, on the one side and Augusta on the other, carefully holding her son's wand in his wand-hand.

"Well, here we go." Sirius said, then took a deep breath and began to weave a pattern with his wand, muttering something under his breath that the others couldn't quite catch.

Draco couldn't quite prevent a violent flinch when Barty's wand aimed at him. It really didn't help that a thin thread of blue energy arced out of his body and connected to the wand. Sirius muttered some more, then carefully touched the glowing-blue tip of Barty's wand to Frank's.

For a half a second, it looked like it wasn't going to work ... then Frank's wand glowed blue, and a second thin thread of blue energy arced out, this time from his wand to Draco. Sirius, grim-faced, pointed Barty's wand at Draco again and tried to invoke the spell. Draco flinched violently again, but when nothing happened, both he and Sirius grinned in triumph.

"That's got it. It switched over." Sirius said. "Dobby!"

The little elf popped in.

"Take this and put it back where Barty left it." Sirius told the little elf. "And thanks again for your help."

Dobby took the wand and popped out, blushing from the praise.

Once he was gone, Draco took a deep, shaky breath. After six months, it was finally over. "What ... " His voice came out high and tight, and he cleared his throat. "What now?"

"Now, you stay at the manor." Sirius said. "I presume that Lucius and Narcissa will have come up with some explanation for your lack of presence to your friends?"

"Probably." Draco agreed.

"We'll find out what story they came up with in the morning, and you can then write your friends letters accordingly." Sirius told him. "So that no one realizes what's really happened. At least, not until your mother's done with Barty, anyway."


	5. Power and Trust

Power and Trust

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Mercia and Northumbria were Earldoms that died out. I am stealing them and making them Dukedoms. Northampton is an Earldom turned Marquessate that exists today. Again, I'm stealing it. A hundred thousand thanks to OriginalTempus for his research assistance.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 4, 1992 Potter Castle

Despite having an abbreviated night's sleep and not being a morning person, Sirius was up in time for breakfast, smiling blearily at Harry when Harry walked into the family dining room with Hedwig on his shoulder.

"Hey kiddo. Ready for the day's lessons?" Sirius asked.

"Ready as I can be." Harry said, making a face. "Not really looking forward to it, honestly."

Sirius gave him a commiserating look. "Yeah, this is the unfortunate part of being us." He said. "But it's not too painful, really, if you think of it as a game or prank you're playing on all and sundry."

Harry cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

Sirius grinned. "Well, you act a certain way often enough, people assume that's how you are all the time." He pointed out. "And when they start assuming that, you can pull all sorts of stuff because it's not the sort of thing someone who acts the way you normally do around them would do, and they never see it coming."

"Oh!" Harry said, catching on. "Sort of like how Professor Snape acts like an evil bat, and people giving him 'what the hell' looks whenever he does something not-evil."

Sirius grinned widely and nodded. "Exactly." Then he grimaced, disgruntled at the fact that Snape was a viable example of the technique. "Anyway, you can have a lot of fun messing with peoples' heads by playing to their expectations in public and then being something completely different in private."

After breakfast they headed for the Entrance Parlor. At nine am, the floo flared to life, and Augusta's head appeared in the flames. "Might we come through, Lord Black?" She asked when she spotted Sirius.

"Of course, Augusta." Sirius said, and tapped the floo with his wand, allowing her and Neville access to the Castle. Moments later, both of them were standing in the parlor. Sirius bowed to Augusta and accepted her extended hand. "Welcome to Potter Castle, Lady Longbottom." And then kissed her knuckles.

"Most kind of you to receive me, Lord Black." Augusta said. Once she'd reclaimed her hand, she continued. "If I may be permitted to introduce my grandson, the Ancient and Noble Earl of Northampton Neville Franklin Longbottom."

Harry watched all this with no small amount of confusion at first, until he realized that Sirius and Augusta were going through what had to be the 'proper' formal steps to greet someone arriving at your home for a visit.

/Boy, is this going to be a pain in the neck./ Harry groused to Hedwig.

/At least you can mock and snark about them to me without anyone being the wiser./ Hedwig pointed out, sounding amused.

/Point. It will make all of this a lot less dull./ Harry agreed.

Sirius and Neville shook hands, Neville with a look on his face that said he was concentrating on getting this right. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Black." Neville said.

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Longbottom." Sirius said, then finally broke character with a grin. "Whoo. Ok, now that's over, c'mon in and we can get comfortable upstairs."

Augusta looked almost pained at Sirius' rather abrupt break, but went with it. "That would be good. There's a lot to go over. For both boys."

That had Neville giving Harry a commiserating look, which Harry returned.

"Ahh, right, Neville will be taking his place as Earl of Northampton in the House of Lords, as well as his place in the Wizengamot when he comes of age." Sirius said, then sighed. "And the good knows I could use a refresher. I remember most of it, but it's been a while."

Augusta gave him a sharp look. "And you never paid that close of attention in the first place, as you found your family and their ways abhorrent."

"Yeah, that too." Sirius agreed.

They all trooped up to the third floor and settled in. Augusta smiled at the two boys. "Dealing with the House of Lords and the Wizengamot is not going to be easy for either of you. You are both going to be at somewhat of a disadvantage due to your ages ... you will both be, by far, the youngest fully confirmed members when you take your places in either body. The House of Lords' minimum age is twenty-one, but by and large, the members are a good deal older than that, usually in their fifties or later. The situation in the Wizengamot is even worse, since Wizards have greater longevity than Muggles. Currently, the next youngest member aside from Sirius is Lucius Malfoy, who is thirty-seven. Many of those sitting on the Wizengamot are well past their centennials."

"And we're going to be fourteen." Harry said with a wince.

Augusta nodded. "Precisely. You are going to have to cultivate personas that compensate for your youth ... you in particular, Harry. Sirius and I both can assist you with getting a handle on it before your official debuts in a few years."

"Something that will assist you in cultivating the necessary personas is a good knowledge of who you are and where you came from." Augusta continued. That comment had Harry shooting a very amused glance at Sirius. "Both Potter and Longbottom have long histories as warriors, knights, and defenders of the Crown in the muggle world and likewise in the wizarding world. There has rarely been a war, magical or mundane, that did not have a Potter and or a Longbottom fighting in it if the British empire was in any way involved. Frequently at each other's backs."

"Harry, both you and Sirius, as Duke Mercia and Northumbria are, if distantly, in line for the Crown. Granted, a lot of people would have to die or be ineligible, but when it comes to those sorts of things, it still counts." Augusta said. "And you are the wizarding equivalent of royalty, as the two remaining families that can trace their lineage back to a time when writing was a new concept in the Isles, and perhaps further still than that. As such, you outrank literally everyone, save each other. In any given situation, people come to you, not vice versa. It's going to be up to you to figure out how to act in such a way that it never crosses their mind for it to be otherwise, even if you are only fourteen."

"Ouch. That's going to be fun." Harry said.

"No doubt." Augusta said. "But you will have allies. Septimus will be there, as will Sirius. And I while I will no longer be in the Wizengamot once you two take your places, I will still be around to provide advice. But that will be for later discussions. Today and tomorrow, we will be going over the rules and etiquette that will be expected of you as observing heirs. Neville already knows most of this, so he can help you practice."

"Firstly, the wizarding world has ranks that are roughly equivalent to the Muggle ones. Ours are variations on 'ancient' and 'noble'. Anyone with 'noble' in their title has some sort of Muggle peerage. With the exception of you and Sirius, they're all Earl or lesser, with most of them being Baronies." Augusta told him. "When you're being formally introduced, the Muggle peerage is included, so you'll find out fast what it is."

"Our ranks go thusly. Most Ancient and Most Noble, which is the equivalent of Duke. There's only the two of you left. Most Ancient and Noble, equivalent to a Marquess. There are six of them. Ancient and Noble, equivalent to an Earl, and there's about a dozen of those. Then there is Ancient, equivalent to a Viscount, and there's several dozen of those. There is also Noble, equivalent to a Baron, of which there is about a dozen." Augusta told him.

"To qualify as Ancient, one must be able to trace one's lineage among wizards for a minimum of ten generations on at least one side, preferably both." Augusta said. "Those with the title of Noble are generally short on wizarding lineage and compensate for that lack by having a muggle peerage to give their names weight, but there are a few exceptions, like the Weasleys. They are Noble, but can trace their wizarding lineage back a good deal further than ten generations on both sides."

"On top of all that." Augusta said, grinning when Harry made an exasperated noise. "There is a largely unofficial way for people of the same rank to figure out who's better than who. In the muggle world, that is largely governed by money, but in the Wizengamot, it is ruled by magical power. When you are formally inducted into the Wizengamot at fourteen, part of the procedure involves touching an orb. This orb measures your magical power on a scale from one on up, in increments of ten. Squibs are one to ten, capable of perceiving magic and magical creatures but unable to perform magic at all. Hedgewizards or witches are the next slot, and are capable of, at best, third year level spells. As such, they are not qualified to attend Hogwarts, and are either homeschooled or attend one of three schools that cater to that level of wizard."

"Beyond that, there are wizard/witch, magician, and mage levels, each with three divisions, Supreme, Arch, and plain. Most adults are in the Supreme Magician to Supreme Wizard/Witch levels ... that is, somewhere between forty-one and eighty. If two people have identical titles and power levels, who is better than who is judged by who has the longer wizarding lineage on both sides. If that's identical as well ... which has happened a few times in the past, then it comes down to who is richer."

Harry grimaced. "Oy. Are your power levels included in your titles during a formal introduction?" He wanted to know.

Augusta shook her head. "No. And for you, it's going to be something you can almost completely ignore, because the only person on your level title-wise is Sirius, and since the two of you are unlikely to be completely at odds on something to the point where wands might be drawn, knowing who can kick whose butt is unnecessary."

What followed after that was several hours' relentless drill on how to handle introductions, including introducing Hedwig, since she was a familiar, how and when to walk, sit, stand, and speak. The names and ranks of the current Wizengamot members, as well as their general leanings, whether pureblood extremist, neutral, Dumbledore stooge or member of the ever-enlarging Potter/Black Alliance.

It was headache-inducingly tedious. Thankfully, Sirius provided quite a bit of humor, as he got to play-act as the various Wizengamot members when Harry and Neville were practicing introductions. He tended to imitate their voices, to often hilarious effect, and frequently over-exaggerated their mannerisms. Or so Harry hoped, because if Sirius was being dead serious about how some of the people acted, Harry was going to be very hard put to keep a straight face, or stop himself from punching someone in the nose.

/I have never been so glad for lunchtime/ Harry told Hedwig when they finally broke for lunch. /That was even worse than I thought./

/It will get easier with time, Harry-chick/ Hedwig consoled him, preening his hair. /For now, why don't you suggest taking Neville on a tour of the grounds after lunch? You know he'll enjoy it./

Harry grinned. /Great idea. It'll give us both a chance to reboot our brains before we have to do another round of practice. Oh, hey, we can take Hissesh along too. Would you be willing to go get him?/

/Sure/ Hedwig said, then carefully turned herself around on his shoulder so she was facing away from the table and launched herself.

"Where's she headed, pup?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, I had a thought." Harry said, then turned to Augusta. "With your permission, Augusta, I'd like to take Neville on a tour of the grounds. I think he'll get a kick out of it."

Augusta thought about that one for all of a half-second. "Yes, yes he would. Provided you come back at the end of an hour. You need to keep practicing."

Harry sighed, but agreed.

By the time Hedwig had chivvied Hissesh down the stairs, lunch was over.

[[What's up, Harry?]] Hissesh asked when he spotted Harry walking out of the family dining room.

[[I'm taking Neville on a short tour of the grounds, because he really likes plants. Thought you might like to join us out there. You might run across a mouse or rabbit or something.]]

[[That sounds like fun]] Hissesh agreed.

"I still can't get over how big he is, even though he's been hanging out in our dorm room all year." Neville said, grinning at Hissesh. "I never knew they grew that big."

"Yeah, Burmese pythons are one of the bigger snake species. Anacondas are bigger though. By quite a bit. Hissesh is about fifteen feet long, big for a Burmese. Anacondas can reach over twenty feet."

Neville shivered. "That." He said. "Is a big snake."

"Yeah. Especially when they're big enough around to consider full-grown humans as lunch." Harry said. "Thankfully, they're not very aggressive, and tend to only be found in or near water in warm environments. They're also slow as heck on land because they're so big."

"Well, that's definitely good to know." Neville said. "So big, but not really all that scary."

"Got it in one." Harry said as he pushed the seldom-used back door behind the stairs open. "C'mon, this is as close as we get to a shortcut to where we're going unless we go by house-elf express."

HPHPHPHPHP

Augusta and Neville left about an hour before dinner. They'd be back the next day to continue practicing, since the Wizengamot session began on the sixth. Harry flopped gratefully onto one of the couches on the third floor once they were gone.

"That." Harry said. "Is going to be a complete pain."

Sirius gently ruffled his hair. "Yeah it is, kiddo, but there has to be a tradeoff somewhere, right? At least you only have to deal with that stuff at Wizengamot sessions and formal parties ... which we don't have many of, as formal parties include everybody. Informal parties tend to include only your circle of friends, which makes formal manners a bit silly and over the top."

Remus came in then, and Sirius grinned over at him. "How went the research?" He asked.

"We're making headway." Remus said. "Cedrella put a heck of a dent in the Black books, and most of the books that can be read by anyone have been gone through by one person. A couple more days, and they'll all be done and read by at least two people."

"Which will leave the Potter books." Harry said with a sigh. "I'll have to take a crack at those after dinner. Is Bill still here?"

Remus nodded. "He said he planned to stick around until you got through all the books, since you had the least knowledge of what to be looking for."

Harry nodded. "Good. I just hope we can figure out how to break or shut off or ... well, get that Mark out of Voldemort's control somehow. Soon."

"That makes two of us. I may not like the greasy bat, but not even he deserves what Voldemort's liable to do to him for turning traitor." Sirius said, shivering in horror.

Harry shivered as well. "Yeah, that can't possibly end well." He agreed.

July 4, 1992 Romania

Seren watched his two-legs with amused interest. They were always so excited and happy whenever he indulged them. It made it all the more fun to do things, just to keep them that way.

Not that he had, at first, understood the two-legs. Dragons, as one of the most magical creatures, could be very, very smart. But they grew into it. The older a dragon was, the smarter they were. And Seren was, essentially, a baby.

It had taken him time to comprehend even the simplest of words, but he'd gotten there. He still depended on scent to figure out what was going on and what the two-legs wanted beyond a handful or so of simple words. He hadn't understood why they asked him to move and do things at first, but he thought he may have worked it out, now.

They all smelled wistful/hopeful/envious whenever he came back from a flight. And they always, always watched him fly. He had never seen any of them fly themselves, so they evidently couldn't. Hardly surprising, since they didn't have wings. So he thought that maybe they wanted to come with him when he flew. It would be an easy enough thing to do ... it's not like any of them were very big. The four-legged prey he hunted were far larger, and he could carry one of those without a problem.

The only problem Seren saw was he couldn't carry them the way he did his prey. He'd hurt them with his claws, and he very much didn't want to do that. Though he thought that maybe the two-legs had figured that one out. Because they all clambered up onto his back, or where his neck met his back, and sat there for a bit from time to time.

Now he just had to see if he was right. Which made it a question of which two-leg to take with him. Which was quite the debate for Seren. He liked all of them, after all, and they never had more than one of them on him at any one time.

Right now though ... right now was looking like a good time. The flame-haired two-legs was currently sitting at the base of Seren's neck, patting and talking to him. The other two-legs that had been with him was moving away, taking him out of range of Seren's wings, where he wouldn't be hurt. Seren was unlikely to encounter a better time.

HPHPHP

It was Charlie and Jeffrey's turn at Seren-sitting, and they'd been having fun with him. Progress seemed to have plateaud a bit, but it was more the humans' fault than the dragons. They just weren't quite sure how the heck to get from 'hey, want to move around for us' to 'hey, fly with us on your back'. Though there had been some progress made on harness designs, and some had been commissioned to be made, including one for Seren, which would hopefully be ready in the next day or two.

They were in the middle of running Seren through his paces, with Charlie on his back, when someone called for Jeffrey from the safety of behind the hill curve, where Seren couldn't see them and object to their presence.

Jeffrey looked at him. "You going to be ok alone?"

"Yeah, should be. Not like Seren's made an aggressive move in months." Charlie said. "Go on. Sounds like they need a hand with something."

Jeffrey nodded and headed off. He got about halfway to the curve when things suddenly got very, very interesting.

Because Seren abruptly straightened, extended his wings, and launched himself into the air. With Charlie still on his back.

Charlie shrieked in alarm and wrapped arms and legs around Seren's neck, clinging for dear life against the completely unexpected launch. It took a minute before his heart stopped trying to beat its way out of his chest, but once Charlie calmed down a bit, he quickly yanked a handkerchief out of his pocket and transfigured it into a long strap that he maneuvered around Seren's neck, then connected the ends. It wouldn't stay like that for more than an hour or two, but hopefully that would be long enough.

With something a touch more secure to cling to and wind his legs around to keep the danger of falling to a minimum, Charlie finally sat up straight, and shortly thereafter, the full reality of what he was doing hit.

He was flying. On a dragon. A dragon. To which he was clinging tightly enough that he could feel Seren's neck expanding and contracting slightly under his legs as he breathed. Could feel some of the muscles working to move his wings.

He was never going to use a broom again. It would be so plebian and pathetic compared to this. A painful mockery. It didn't matter that Charlie had zero control of where they were going at the moment. He was sure that would come with a bit of time and effort. He let out an exuberant, exultant war-whoop.

It ended entirely too soon, with Seren coming in for a landing near where the dragons usually hunted. Charlie quickly undid the transfiguration on his handkerchief and slid to the ground, patting and praising Seren profusely.

About ten minutes later, Jeffrey, Calvin and the rest of Seren's team came racing up, expressions torn between concern and extreme envy.

"Are you all right, kid?" Jeffrey wanted to know.

"Riding the high to beat all highs at the moment." Charlie admitted, patting Seren's nose yet again. "But otherwise totally unharmed."

With that addressed, Jeffrey and the others abandoned concern and started firing questions.

"Why did he take off?"

"What was it like?"

"How fast did he go?"

"How the heck did you stay on?"

Charlie laughed. "I have no idea at all why he took off, and we probably never will figure it out. It was ... " He hesitated for a moment. " ... completely beyond description. I can't begin to think of words that do it justice. And he didn't actually go all that fast, compared to how fast we've seen them fly from time to time." Charlie gave Seren a considering look. "Nor did he turn, bank, or do any sort of maneuvers. He just flew straight. Fairly low and fairly slow. Like he knew he had to be careful." He looked back at his teammates. "And I transfigured a handkerchief into a strap to hold on to once I stopped panicking after he took off."

"You may be right about him being aware, Charlie." Jeffrey said. "The blighter waited until I was well out of range to take off. We've all been on his back how many times now? But always with the others close to hand. I think he realized there would have been a danger to those of us on the ground if he tried to take off when we were standing so close."

"We are going to have to start working on teaching him to respond to requests that can be used in the air." Charlie said. "And some way to ensure he can actually hear us, when we're flying. It wasn't all that noisy at the speed he was going, but if he goes much faster, even shouting won't cut it."

"Simple, one-word requests like we've been doing with the ground-bound stuff." Calvin agreed. "And it might actually be fairly simple to connect some of the same words to the appropriate actions in the air. Left for go left, Right for go right, that sort of thing. Trick is going to be teaching him requests that only work aerially. Like getting him to dive, or bank."

"We'll get it figured out, boys." Jeffrey said. "I'm just glad the harness we worked out will be ready soon. Ought to make the whole flying thing a lot easier and safer."

July 4, Potter Castle

Once dinner was over, Harry headed for the formal dining room and all the books there, along with Bill, Cedrella, Sirius, and Remus.

"You know." Harry said as he sat down and pulled a book to him. "I just realized we haven't seen Professor Snape or the twins all day." He glanced around. "Is anyone else wondering what the hell they're up to down in the potions lab?"

"Trying not to think about it, actually." Remus admitted. "Because if the twins manage to convince Severus to pull a prank of any sort, or allow them to pull one, we're all of us in trouble."

Harry snorted with amusement. "I can't even begin to see him playing a prank." He admitted. "I mean, it's Professor Snape. He may not be the evil bastard everyone at Hogwarts thought he was, but he's not exactly a ray of sunshine and fun, either."

"You'd be surprised." Sirius groused. "The git's got a good mind for pranks, when he's in the mood. Got us nearly as often as we got him, in school."

Harry grinned over at him. "From that tone, I'm guessing he got you good a few times?"

Which had Remus laughing. "Merlin, yes." Remus said. "He got James and Sirius both really good a couple times, before fifth year. Never bothered with me much, but that may have been because I tended to leave him alone for the most part."

Harry wondered what had changed in fifth year. He was betting that whatever it was, it was the root of the hate between Sirius and Severus. That said, he wasn't about to ask. He had a feeling he'd get his head bit off if he did.

They had some success, that night ... but also failure. Despite searching every book they had available, they found nothing other than the transfer spell. There was no way to break the Vindico Quod Rectus spell other than the death of the caster or new owner, once the spell was transferred. That was the bad news. The good news was that they'd found how to break the rest of the spells involved in the Mark.

The really unfortunate news, though, was that it was going to have to be Harry that broke the Mark down, because all the spells had been done in parseltongue, and the only way to fully break them would be doing the breaking spells in parseltongue as well.

Harry decided to play coward and hide while the adults broke the news to Severus. And to give himself time to get his head around the whole thing. Because even if it was in name only, the thought of owning someone was ... not doing good things to Harry's psyche.

/It's not like you'll lord it over him, chick/ Hedwig said, preening his hair and doing her best to comfort Harry.

/I know I wouldn't. But somehow, I don't think that's going to be a comfort to him, you know? He's going to hate this. He wanted free, and ... it's never going to happen. He's always going to have the whole 'what if' thing dangling over his head. He's going to hate it. Hate me. And I'm sort of going to be right there with him./

Hedwig flipped a wing around his head in imitation of a hug. /It will turn out all right, Harry. You'll see./

/I hope you're right, Hedwig. I really do./

HPHPHPHPHP

Severus stalked the gardens that night, looking every bit the vampire or bat he was frequently accused of being, trying to come to terms with what he'd been told.

He'd give them this much ... they'd been smart, and sent Cedrella down to give him the news after he'd sent the twins up to bed. She was one of the few people who he didn't have any sort of history with in any way, good or bad. Who could deliver the news without a shred of 'I told you so' or 'you deserve what you're getting' in her tone.

Not that it had helped, all that much. Oh, he wasn't about to take this out on Harry. No by any means. It wasn't anywhere near Harry's fault. This one was entirely his own fault. Or, well, his, Dumbledore, and Voldemort's. Still, it burned, to know he'd never be entirely free. At least he would no longer have to worry about getting nailed with crippling pain or being killed.

July 5, 1992 Potter Castle

The next morning, breakfast was ... rather tense. Harry kept his gaze fixed on his plate and didn't say a word to anyone. It had always been the best way to avoid getting his ass kicked at the Dursleys', and he figured it didn't hurt to try it here, when he really, really, really didn't want to piss Snape off any worse than he already had to be.

As such, he missed the increasingly concerned looks being passed among the adults at his sudden silent-and-meek act. By the time breakfast drew to a close, Sirius was honestly contemplating murder, and trying to decide which person to kill first. It was one thing to sort-of know that the Dursleys had abused Harry, and another thing entirely to see Harry sitting there with his shoulders hunched and his entire body tensed as if expecting to get hit.

He wasn't the only one. Every adult at the table either had exceedingly pissed-off looks on their faces or, if they were good at keeping a poker face, mentally contemplating torture and/or murder. Severus finally rolled his eyes and wordlessly indicated for everyone to make themselves scarce. Fred and George were the first ones out the door, muttering to each other. The adults followed, leaving Severus and Harry alone.

"I am not angry with you, Harry." Severus said. "Nor will I be. This is hardly your fault."

Harry finally unwound a little bit, giving Severus a wary look. "Hasn't stopped people from hating me in the past, Professor." He pointed out softly.

Severus snorted in disgust. "Those ... creatures ... you grew up with are hardly an upstanding example of humankind, Harry." Severus pointed out. "Now come, let's get this over with so we can go about our days."

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to straighten up. Part of him still didn't believe that Severus wasn't going to get pissed off and either verbally or physically nasty with him, but he'd long since learned to just deal with the shit as it hit. If it happened, he'd deal with it then. Because Severus was right, they needed to get this done so that Voldemort couldn't kill him ... or worse.

They headed to one of the spare parlors on the first floor, and Harry dug the scroll of parchment Bill had written the spells, and what order they needed to be done, on. At least they didn't have to try to steal Voldemort's wand ... which they had no idea where the heck it even was right now. Voldemort's twisting and adapting of the various spells had eliminated the wand requirement, tying it into parseltongue instead, which really, given that he'd been the only known parselmouth at the time, had been a brilliant move. Because even if someone had managed to steal his wand, they'd not have been able to undo the spells.

Bill came in a moment later, both as Harry's cheering squad, and so he could check to make sure the Mark was fully broken when Harry was done.

Severus unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled it up, and Harry got comfortable on the couch next to him before taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, and then pulling out his wand.

The first few spells were surprisingly easy, and Harry fancied that he could almost see the Mark breaking. Then, with the fourth spell, he really could, because the dull gray Mark began to get very fuzzy around the edges, like it was trying to blend back into Severus' skin. The fifth and sixth spell increased the effect, turning the Mark into a gray blob with no real distinctive features.

And then it was time for the transfer. Harry cringed mentally, truly, deeply not wanting any part of this. Not wanting to own Severus, even in name only, but needing to protect him from Voldemort's wrath. Harry started the spell.

And Magic answered.

To cast any spell, you need two things: Will and magical power. The words used in spells merely gave the human mind a framework within which to work to achieve a particular goal. As any magical child under the age of eleven has discovered, if you want something badly enough, you can make it happen without fancy words or wand movements.

At eleven, Harry already had roughly the same magical strength as the average adult wizard, and the potential for more as he got older. He also had a great deal of willpower, honed by years of dealing with the Dursleys.

Unfortunately, not all the magical power in the world could break the Vindico spell. But as Voldemort had proven, it could be altered, could be changed. Could be changed beyond all recognition, into something that wasn't Vindico Quod Restus at all, while still retaining that unbreakable link between the two.

Harry collapsed back into the couch when it was over, not realizing something odd had happened. Severus stared at his arm in curiosity and confusion, and Bill, seeing that look on his face, came over to see what was going on. Bill got a good look at Severus' arm as well, and immediately ran a couple diagnostic spells. Then stared at a dozing Harry in dumbfounded disbelief.

"What ... I ... how the hell?" Bill sputtered.

Severus gave him a narrow-eyed glare. "Would you care to speak coherently, Mr. Weasley?" He growled.

"Severus, that's not ... the Vindico spell doesn't leave a mark." Bill waved a hand at the stylized white owl and green snake now on Severus' arm. "And according to the diagnostic, that is, in fact, not the Vindico spell. It's something else. Something I've seen writings of in the tombs in Egypt. It's a protection. Ancient wizards would put it on people under their protection, and if that person was in danger, the wizard would know, and be able to come to their aid. Would be able to find them anywhere. The marks were a warning to all that the person was protected by a wizard. There's been a bit of a debate among the older cursebreakers that this spell ... we don't even have a proper name for it ... was twisted at some point to produce the Vindico spell." Bill glanced from Severus' arm to Harry, then to Severus' face. "How in the name of hell he managed this is a question for the ages. I know for a fact he didn't read about this in any of the books we've been going through."

Severus glanced down at his arm and then over at Harry, one eyebrow heading for his hairline. "Intriguing. We shall have to talk to him about it when he wakens."


	6. Belief and Perception

Belief and Perception

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Thanks once again to OriginalTempus for research assistance. And new thanks to LadyHolder, who, along with OriginalTempus, spent the better part of two hours researching, organizing, and cackling over this chapter's plot with me. You two are superstars. Again, I have stolen stuff left, right, and center. I mean *absolutely* no disrespect whatsoever by doing so.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 5, 1992 Potter Castle

Harry didn't wake from his nap until almost lunchtime. More than enough time for all the adults to have a meeting. Not that the meeting actually helped clear up the confusion, or find answers to how and why Harry managed to pull off what he did.

Harry woke from his nap on the couch to find Sirius sitting at the end of the couch with Harry's feet in his lap and an amused look on his face. Harry gave him a jaundiced look.

"Do I want to know why you look so amused, or should I just assume I have some sort of gunk on my face from a prank?" Harry asked.

"No gunk, I promise." Sirius said. "Just amused because you don't seem to be able to not pull spectacular stunts of your own."

Harry gave his godfather a narrow-eyed stare. "And what does that mean?" He wanted to know. Half a second later, something occurred to him, and his whole body went cold. "Oh no. Don't tell me I screwed up!"

Sirius immediately waved a hand, trying to stem Harry's growing panic. "No, you didn't screw up, Harry. At least, not the way you're thinking, meaning in a bad way. But something weird did happen. A good weird though." At Harry's disbelieving look, Sirius raised a hand. "I swear. It's a good thing. You got the spell out from under Voldie's control." That, Sirius knew, needed to be said right off or Harry was liable to start panicking again. "But you didn't slave Severus to you. Or anyone else for that matter."

Harry frowned. "So ... what did I do?"

"According to Bill, you managed to switch the spell from the Vindico mess to something that was, in ancient times, used to protect lesser-ranked wizards and non-wizards under a wizard's protection." Sirius told Harry. "If Severus ever comes under attack or gets kidnapped or something, you'll know, and be able to go straight to him, either by apparating, once you learn how, or via house-elf. But that's all it does. You can't hurt or control him at all. He's still got a mark on his arm, but now it's an white owl and green snake, rather than the Dark Mark. According to Bill, the marks were a warning to other wizards that the person was under another wizard's protection, and to not mess with them, or else."

Harry blinked a few times. "So ... he's free?"

Sirius nodded. "Yep. Bill's done a bunch of different scans to be sure. None of us can figure out how the heck you managed that, though."

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. "I really, really, really didn't want to have that Vindico spell under my control." He admitted. "I mean, I knew I would never use it, but ... "

"But you didn't like the entire concept." Sirius said with a nod. "Dunno how that would have changed things around, but it was probably a big factor in the change." He admitted. "Now, you've slept enough, and we have a bunch of stuff to go over today in preparation for tomorrow. Augusta and Neville are here ... they opted to wait for you to wake up when they found out what you'd been up to this morning."

Harry groaned, but got to his feet and prepared for a long day of learning etiquette and protocol.

July 5, 1992 Malfoy Manor

Narcissa Malfoy was a patient, devious woman. This was a Black trait that even Sirius had inherited, his vociferous denials be damned. So despite the fact she knew her son to be safe, free from Barty's control, she did not immediately pounce on the arrogant bastard.

For one, he was currently in high favor with Voldemort, who had been unpredictable as all hell before he had become disembodied, and Merlin alone knew what the last decade as a specter had done to his level of sanity. If she attempted to punish Barty without Voldemort's permission, she could very easily end up dead, insane, or physically broken thanks to torture herself.

No, she would have to wait. Barty would make a mistake, and fall out of favor with Voldemort, and need punishing. At which point Narcissa would volunteer herself to mete it out. And what she did to the bastard, then healed before Voldemort found out about it, well, that would just remain her little secret, wouldn't it?

And if Barty didn't make a mistake on his own, Narcissa was fully capable of forcing him into making a mistake. It would be all too easy. Better, she and Lucius could remain here, spies in the enemy's camp, able to slow or thwart some of Voldemort's plans through connivery and careful application of house elf interference. Besides, the wait would make her eventual revenge all the sweeter. Anticipation did make the best garnish for these sorts of things.

Today they were meeting as a fully re-formed group for the first time, with Voldemort in attendance, attached to a minor wizard from the European continent that had been procured for his use the day before.

"The summer session of the Wizengamot begins tomorrow." It was odd, hearing Voldemort's voice come from the general direction of the captured wizard, without that wizard's mouth moving. "It is clear to me that there is a new player on the field. One that might well attempt to use the Wizengamot to their benefit."

Quite a few people in the room nodded in agreement. "Dumbledore was not behind the force that attempted to thwart us." Barty agreed wholeheartedly. "In truth, there can be only one source for the leadership of the new group."

"Potter." Voldemort's voice was a hate-filled hiss. "He is the source."

"Indirectly, my lord." Barty said carefully. "He cannot actually lead. He is but eleven, and no matter his supposed accomplishments, adults will not heed the commands of a child, especially not in a contest of this magnitude. I suspect Black and his cohort Lupin are in fact in charge."

There was a long, breathless moment where everyone wondered if Barty had overstepped his place. Eventually, the captured wizard nodded. "A valid point, Barty. And if Black has indeed taken charge, he will doubtless attempt to use the Wizengamot as another tool in his attempts to stop us. He is, after all, a Black, and well aware of the power he wields as Head of House."

There were a number of nods around the table. "We're going to have to try to counter him." Lucius eventually said. "It is likely that he will at least try to play nicely, especially at first, if only because half the Wizarding world is still wondering if he is, in fact, guilty of what he was suspected of or not." Because wizards in general were easily led idiots. "We can slow him down considerably, and possibly even get some measures passed into law without him realizing it. It's been done often enough in the past, by both sides."

One of the favorite tactics of the various factions in the Wizengamot was to hide a law they wanted passed that the other factions would object strenuously to somewhere in the middle of a long-winded, contorted law for something far less objectionable. The maneuver was almost invariably successful, and not discovered until well after the fact.

The captured wizard nodded. "Agreed. As our highest-ranking member, you will be in charge of that aspect of this campaign, Lucius. Do not fail me." Voldemort said.

"I will not, my Lord." Lucius said.

He would have done this anyway. He sincerely believed in the superiority of pureblood wizards, and sincerely believed that muggleborns needed to be kept in their proper place. He had only objected to the whole 'kill, rape, and torture at will' part of Voldemort's ideology. There were better, more effective ways to cut muggle influence out of their world.

He looked forward to crossing metaphorical swords with Black. After all, the Unbreakable Vow didn't stop him from trying to thwart Black's schemes. He only had to truthfully report what happened in a Death Eater meeting when Black asked. Lucius was fairly sure Black hadn't realized the gaping loophole he'd given Lucius to work with, and Lucius had not seen fit to inform Black of his error. His expression when Lucius moved against him in the Wizengamot ought to be entertaining.

July 6, 1992 Wizengamot Chambers

Sirius had spent the last year essentially pussyfooting around. Moving quietly, in the shadows. Speaking in whispers and gathering allies on the sly. The Black/Potter Alliance had, until two days ago, been a secret to literally everyone but those who had thrown their lot in with the rebel Lord and his godson. Despite the confrontation earlier in the year, Sirius doubted that even Dumbledore fully realized what Sirius was up to.

And even though they had been moving quietly and entirely in secret, they had managed to break at least one faction in the Wizengamot before a single 'shot' had been fired. Dumbledore, once the single most powerful player in the Wizengamot had been reduced to a bystander, stripped of his positions and deprived of fully half his supporters.

Now, however, Sirius was done with sneaking about. Even if it had been possible to keep people blind to the shift in power in the Wizengamot, Sirius wouldn't have wanted to try.

Sirius did his best work when playing to an audience. And this audience he knew how to manipulate better than most. So it was that you could have heard a pin drop when the doors slammed open and well over a dozen people marched through the doors, led by Sirius and Harry, both of them dressed in the somber judiciary black with a white W directly over their full-color Family Crests. Behind and to the left of Sirius and Harry marched Augusta and Neville, similarly attired. Behind and to the right of Sirius and Harry was the Head of House Greengrass, the next eldest and highest ranked of those in the Alliance. The rest of the current Alliance members were behind the Longbottoms and Greengrass, each according to their Wizengamot ranks in a blatant display of power.

Sirius and Harry marched straight forward, towards two rows of six chairs, all currently empty. These were the sole remnants of the now-dead First Families, kept in their honor in perpetuity, a silent reminder of what was owed that illustrious group, even if the vast majority of them were now dead and gone. Sirius and Harry took the two center seats of the front row, settling themselves with a regal disregard for the mayhem their entrance had caused.

The two columns of their allies had split off smartly, each of them heading for their assigned places in the U-shaped rank of seats. An elevated platform took up the bulk of the open area of the U. There were two lecterns, one on either side of the platform, used for announcement of and debates on proposed laws, and in the center was the Chief Warlock's bench, where the Chief Warlock sat to preside over the session. To the Chief Warlock's left was a far less impressive table and chair for the use of the court secretary, charged with recording the events of the session.

The (extremely unusual) complete silence continued for several long moments after the last of the Alliance members had taken their seats. Sirius took especial pleasure from the totally confounded and almost angry look on Dumbledore's face in particular.

But then, the man did have something to be mad about, after all. Because Sirius had stolen a number of people right out from under the manipulative bastard's nose, without him being aware of it. The Weasleys and Longbottoms had been but the tip of the iceberg. Moody was probably the bitterest blow for Dumbledore, as he considered Moody a friend, for whatever that was worth.

Aside from those three, Sirius had managed to steal the Browns, MacDougals and MacMillians out of Dumbledore's camp. And was better than halfway to sweet-talking Bones, something Dumbledore had never managed with Amelia. Sirius had also managed to sway a number of neutral families that had refused to march to Dumbledore's drum.

Beside him, Sirius could just feel Harry trembling slightly with the effort to clamp down on the urge to laugh. Sirius could tell that was the problem because he could see Harry's face out of the corner of his eye, and Harry's eye was glittering with suppressed amusement.

Malcolm Davis finally broke the silence by slamming his gavel onto the bench before him. "As it is now Nine O'clock, I, Malcolm Davis, Chief Warlock, do hereby call this two thousand ninetieth Session of Wizengamot to order."

That seemed to shock everyone back into a semblance of normal behavior, and a susurrus of sound made the rounds as everyone settled in. Once everyone was in their places, two more persons entered from a door behind the Chief Warlock's bench. Sirius straightened slightly when he spotted them, thoroughly surprised.

As much as a large segment of the wizarding population would like to forget it, they were still, in point of fact, subjects of Her Majesty the Queen of England. Most of the time, they were in fact able to forget that little fact, and the Wizengamot at large was able to control, to a large extent, the information the Queen (and her predecessors) received about Her magical subjects and the laws under which they operated. This was helped by the fact that the Royal lineage was Muggle, and therefore, never a full part of the wizarding world.

That last fact changed with Elizabeth II, the first Muggleborn witch of Royal lineage. At the time of the discovery of her status as a witch, she had been an unlikely third in line for the throne. Her family was successful in keeping her status as a witch quiet, mostly by dint of servant loyalty and the fact young children in that strata of society were generally not included in adult gatherings.

Then circumstances occurred that turned her from the unlikely third in line to the heir presumptive, and there was no way to set her younger sister up as the heir presumptive without the public asking a lot of very uncomfortable questions, as Elizabeth had been, insofar as the public was aware, a completely normal child thus far, with no scandal or questionable mental competence attached to her.

She was privately tutored in magical subjects, but this was countered to a large degree by a carefully chosen nanny who ensured that Elizabeth saw magic as, well, something somewhat less than desirable. Not quite an offense in the eyes of God, but uncomfortably close, in hopes that Elizabeth would largely reject her magical heritage. It worked. Despite becoming a fully trained and capable witch, Elizabeth only rarely carried a wand on her person, and even more rarely performed magic of any variety.

When she was thirteen, she began a written correspondence with Phillip Mountbatten, the then-eighteen-year-old adopted son of that family. At the time, Elizabeth believed Phillip to be the exiled son of Grecian and Danish royalty. Very shortly after their correspondence began, however, she learned the truth.

Phillip Mountbatten was, in fact, not of Grecian and Danish royalty. He had been born Marius Black, second son of Cygnus Black and, at the time of his birth, seventh or eighth in line for Head of House Black, as the second son of the second son. Unfortunately for Marius, he was declared a Squib at the age of nine, having failed to exhibit any accidental magic, and his name not being on Hogwarts' roll of future students. He was handed over to the Mountbattens by the then-Head of House, Arcturus Black.

The Mountbattens had a long history of alliance with the Blacks, for a very good reason. The Mountbattens had been started by a squib Black, who went on to make a name for himself in the Muggle world entirely separate from the Blacks. The family's status as squibs meant they had a high chance of producing a wizarding child, so early on a deal was struck with the Blacks. Any magical children born would be given to the Blacks to raise, to assist in keeping the magical world secret, and any squibs born in the Blacks would be given to the Mountbattens, who, while their rank didn't quite equal the Black line's, came close enough to make it easier for the Black squibs to adapt to the Muggle world.

Ironically enough, Marius had proven to not be a squib, but a hedgewizard. Capable of magic, but too weak to qualify to attend Hogwarts. A fact he didn't discover until he was nearly fifteen, and his identity as Phillip Mountbatten had been firmly established. Not that he had been overly inclined to resume his place as a Black, after being disowned, declared dead, and pawned off on someone else. But like any true Black, Phillip made the most of his circumstances, and when word reached him through his own magical tutors that Elizabeth was taking lessons in magic, he contacted her, initially planning to be her long-term magical advisor, since he knew a great deal about the magical world.

But plans change, and in Phillip's case, for the better, as he and Elizabeth became quite close, and ended up getting married. Which, when Elizabeth took her place as queen, gave Phillip a higher rank than the Blacks enjoyed. The irony of it had made Phillip's decade.

Elizabeth came to the Wizarding world every five years to open the summer Wizengamot session, directly after the election of the next Minister for Magic. Not that those visits ever resulted in her being fully informed of the wizarding world's doings, thanks to the political environment during the vast majority of her reign. Though she opened the Wizengamot with far less pomp and circumstance, so as to avoid drawing any attention to the wizarding world. Every year, Phillip attended with her.

Due to the war with Voldemort, and how dangerous things were in the magical world at that point, Millicent Bagnold, the then-Minister, had asked Elizabeth not to attend the 1980 Wizengamot opening. Elizabeth had returned in 1985 at the next election. And then was begged off again in 1990, when Fudge was elected.

By that point, Elizabeth smelled a rat. She had been aware of certain undercurrents during her visit in 1975, but had, at the time, presumed it was due to the war her magical subjects were fighting. Unfortunately, her visits were brief enough that she really couldn't get a good feel for what was going on. Given the reports she'd received of the increasing trouble in the magical world, not attending the 1980 Wizengamot opening had made sense to her. The last thing the wizarding world needed was for her to be attacked there.

The undercurrents she had noted in 1975 were still very much there, and perhaps even stronger, which she found odd, in 1985. At that point, she had begun to do some quiet investigating, only to come up with a disturbing lack of information. Being asked not to attend the 1990 opening had been something of a last straw. She hadn't wanted to go in blind, however, and had increased her attempts to find out what was going on. Given her other duties, that had taken quite a lot of time. And then Sirius had been set free.

To say Her Majesty had been perturbed to discover any subject had been incarcerated without trial, never mind a subject of such high rank, was to vastly understate the case. The events of the next few months had made things even more interesting. At that point, Elizabeth had decided to forgo the usual polite protocol and just show up. At the very least, it was likely to shake loose unguarded reactions. Because something was going on with her magical subjects, and she was going to find out what.

Everyone rose as the Queen entered, Phillip walking just behind her. And Elizabeth got the unguarded reactions she'd been hoping for. Quite a few people looked exceedingly discomfited by her presence. Uncomfortable, shifty looks abounded, as did more than one disgusted sneer that the perpetrator was not swift enough to conceal.

Thanks to Phillip, Elizabeth was aware that there were certain wizards and families that did not look upon the magical equivalent to commoners favorably. But neither Elizabeth nor Phillip had any idea just how bad things had gotten since the late twenties, when Phillip had last been a member of this world. That some of these people openly disdained her and her authority was not a good sign.

To his credit, Malcolm Davis recovered from the shock of the Queen and her Consort showing up unscheduled fast. He swept them a respectful (if outdated by muggle terms) bow. "Your Majesties. We are honored by your presence."

Elizabeth gave him a penetrating look, but quickly decided that whatever was going on, this man at least was in earnest. "The honor is ours, Chief Warlock. Please, continue. We are only here to observe."

Malcolm nodded. "Very well." He looked somewhat lost for a moment, realizing there wasn't a place for them to sit to watch the day's proceedings, as Elizabeth and Phillip had never stayed past the time it took for Elizabeth to address the Wizengamot before.

At that point, Sirius got to his feet and approached the platform, giving a deep, respectful bow. "Your Majesties, if you please, I do not believe the First Families would begrudge you the use of their seats."

Elizabeth and Phillip happily accepted the offer, and descended from the platform to head for the double tier of seats.

Meanwhile, Harry had frozen into place and was having a minor panic attack. Because it was an 'off year' and Augusta had needed to teach Harry so much already, she had not included how to greet royalty in her lessons the last two days, having intended to instruct Harry on those particulars later in the summer. And while the bulk of the Wizarding elite might not have been all that impressed by or in awe of the Queen, Harry had grown up in the muggle world and the same could most definitely not be said of him. He was very quietly freaking out because he was going to be sitting within touching distance of the Queen and her consort. And he had only the very vaguest of ideas on how to behave in their presence, or how to greet them, because that was really not something that even a normal kid learned, and Harry's childhood had been anything but normal.

/Breathe, Harry./ Hedwig reminded him gently, wrapping Harry more tightly than usual in her supportive presence. /Breathe. It's all right. Calm down, chick. Just be respectful and polite and you'll be fine. She's not going to expect you to be perfect./

Leaning on Hedwig's support, Harry managed to calm down and regain his composure before Sirius, Elizabeth and Phillip arrived at the seats. He got to his feet, Hedwig on his shoulder.

"Your Majesties." Sirius said. "If I may introduce the Most Ancient and Most Noble Duke of Mercia, Harold James Potter, and his Familiar, Hedwig."

"Your Majesties." Harry said, bowing respectfully.

"A pleasure, Lord Potter." Elizabeth said, then, with a twinkle in her eye. "And Lady Hedwig." with Phillip echoing her a moment later on both counts.

Harry relaxed marginally, because Augusta had covered the whole 'greeting familiars' thing, and nowhere in had there been anything about a familiar being bestowed a title of any kind. He therefore assumed (rightly) it was Elizabeth's quiet attempt to put Harry more at ease in her presence. That it buttered Hedwig up was just a side benefit.

Hedwig let out a crackling bark and bobbed her head in the closest thing an owl could get to a bow or curtsy. /See, they're not so bad./

/Just because they kissed up to you ... / Harry thought, highly amused.

Elizabeth, being a shrewd operator, realized that Sirius was going to be far more comfortable dealing with her than Harry was going to be, and tilted her head at Phillip, indicating for him to sit beside Harry so the royal couple bracketed Sirius and Harry. Not that having Phillip on his right was all that much less intimidating for Harry than having Elizabeth there.

Sirius was doing some very, very fast re-arranging of his plans. With the division between the muggle and magical worlds being what it was, it simply hadn't occurred to Sirius to appeal to the Queen for assistance in dealing with the problems the wizarding world was facing. Now, with her here on an unscheduled trip, Sirius had been reminded. And was cackling mentally over the mayhem he could unleash if he got the Queen on his side. Which was entirely likely once she found out exactly what was going on.

Malcolm gave himself a mental shake and opened the session with a short speech that covered the issues left over from the winter session. This included proposed laws currently under consideration, as well as issues that might require laws that had been brought to the Wizengamot's attention, and would require debate to hash out over the next month. He then asked for any new issues.

Sirius and Lucius ended up on their feet at the same time. Sirius glowered at Lucius a bit, though it was mostly for show.

Malcolm recognized Sirius first, as he had the higher rank of the two wishing to speak. Sitting beside Phillip, Harry managed to give the impression of hunkering down without actually moving, as he anticipated the reaction to Sirius' planned speech. Phillip, well accustomed to reading body language, picked up on Harry's sudden anticipatory wariness, and cocked an eyebrow slightly, wondering what was about to happen.

"My fellow Lords and Ladies." Sirius said. "Ours is a proud heritage and an ancient lineage. We, all of us, can trace our ancestries for hundreds and even thousands of years. We have been, if not kings and queens in our own rights, then advisors to royalty and those of high rank since there was first a King on these islands." Sirius looked around. "We were acknowledged as wise, and fair arbiters of justice. As skilled and much-sought healers."

He gave a disgusted snort. "How far the mighty have fallen. Now, now we are few. We have descended into petty prejudice, bigotry and hatred. We have become weak, pathetic, and nigh-useless. Worse, one in five of our children will flee this country and seek their fortunes elsewhere, further reducing our already critical numbers."

"Why has this happened, you ask? I tell you it is not because we allow muggleborns into our midst. No. It is because our ancestors, in an ill-considered bid to shelter themselves from a brief period of persecution cut us off from the muggle world. We became secret. Our world shrank, and with it our minds and sensibilities. We became ruled by fear." Sirius began to stalk back and forth as he spoke, his cloak billowing out behind him and snapping smartly as he turned in a manner very reminiscent of Snape.

"And because we were afraid, we targeted all who were not 'us'. Werewolves, centaurs, goblins, Muggleborns, even Squibs. They all suffered for our terror as we cowered in our homes, waiting for our world to be discovered and torn apart." Sirius gave another disgusted snort.

"And where did that fear lead us? To Voldemort." There was a mass shudder and more than a few cries of alarm. "That atmosphere of fear and bigotry that had been allowed to ferment for hundreds of years gifted us the greatest mistake our world has ever produced. A megalomaniacal madman with delusions of grandeur. A man who stole the best and brightest children from multiple generations by preying on their fear, and got most of them killed. A man who marched through our world almost uncontested. Because we were afraid!"

Sirius lifted his wand. "This." He barked. "Is a weapon. Every one of us has been taught to use it as such. Yet throughout Voldemort's reign, most of us cowered in our homes and waited for someone to save us!" He shook his head. "Our ancestors, ladies and gentlemen, would be horrified at what we have become."

He stopped pacing and turned slowly, locking eyes with as many people as he could. "Well, lords and ladies, I for one refuse to be afraid anymore. I am done cowering behind thick walls and heavy wards. I am done turning a blind eye to the injustices perpetrated by the fear that chokes our world. I fully intend to loosen or outright abolish the fear-choked laws that have been passed by this body. I will no longer tolerate the marginalization of anyone or any sentient being, magical or not, that is not a so-called pureblood."

To say that speech put the kneazle among the snidgets was a vast understatement. The Wizengamot seemed to be more or less equally divided between stunned silence, cheers, and angry denials. Dumbledore and Lucius would have been horrified to realize that they were both in the 'stunned silent' camp.

Dumbledore has known, to a point, that Sirius was gathering followers. He'd suspected that Sirius would try to pull something, but never in his wildest nightmares had he begun to suspect something like this. This was the sort of sweeping, grand plan that he and Gellert had once had. Only, Sirius had the power to actually accomplish what he was setting out to do.

Lucius, for his part, was completely stunned. He'd had more warning than Dumbledore that Sirius was up to his eyeballs in plotting, had been wary because unlike many, he did not forget that Sirius was a Black, but even he hadn't suspected just how all-encompassing Sirius' plans were.

Or how smart Sirius had been in executing that plan. First, the display of blatant power when he and the members of his Alliance marched in, and then, rather than saying 'I want to abolish a few laws', Sirius had flat-out called everyone who wanted to keep those laws in place a sniveling coward and a disgrace to their ancestors. None of them wanted to be accused of that. Granted, Sirius had pissed a good number of people off, but Lucius had no doubt that Sirius, after giving them a little time to calm down and think, would have a remedy to their wounded prides ready.

Lucius was already mentally scrambling, trying to adjust his planned speech in the face of Sirius' frankly inspired rhetoric. Unfortunately, he wasn't coming up with anything that would make him seem anything but the weakling coward Sirius claimed adherents of separatist laws to be. Damn him. Lucius was just grateful that in the furor, it was unlikely that anyone would remember he'd stood up to speak in the first place.

It took a few minutes, and more than a little banging on Malcolm's gavel on the bench before everyone calmed down. Well, mostly calmed down. Sirius was being given death-glares by more than one person. Beside him, Harry was doing his best to not wilt under the furious looks.

/Well, that went over well, don't you think?/ Hedwig commented cheerily.

Harry gave a mental laugh. /Oh, yeah, sure. They're all of them cheering like mad soccer fans./ He snarked.

Hedwig gave a gleeful mental cackle. /Well, they need the shakeup, the old fuddy-duddies/

/No argument from me on that one./

After that bombshell of a speech, Sirius went on to outline, in specific, what he planned on. Among the lot was abolishing all anti-werewolf legislation, which ought to have surprised exactly no one, considering Sirius' best friend was a known werewolf. There was also mention made of loosening or abolishing most of the centaur-related legislation, which was only marginally less biased than that leveled at werewolves, and a proposed re-negotiated treaty with the goblins, with an eye towards far more fair treatment of that race, in hopes of cutting any potential future uprisings off before they got going.

The more Sirius talked, the more squirming the other members did, and the more dirty and/or horrified looks Sirius got. Finally, he wound down and gave the room at large a toothy grin that was more 'cross me, I dare you' than 'I am happy' and finally yielded the floor.

Rather understandably, with the entire Wizengamot more or less in an uproar, Malcolm decided to call it a day, and reconvene tomorrow, when everyone's heads would, hopefully, be a little calmer.

Sirius, still sporting that rather dangerous grin, turned to Elizabeth and Phillip. "Your Majesties, I know that you doubtless have a great deal of business to attend to, but I would like to request an audience at your convenience." He said, the request going unheard by any but the four of them in the furor.

Elizabeth smiled at Sirius. "We cleared our calendar for today, Lord Black, as we were unsure of how events would unfold. "It would seem that there is much that needs to be discussed, if your speech is anything to go by."

"Your Majesty, quite frankly, you have no idea." Sirius said, entirely seriously. "But hopefully by day's end, you will."

The four of them headed into the room where Elizabeth and Phillip had been waiting for the Wizengamot session to start, and Sirius grabbed the floo powder. "Harry, you go ahead, and warn Remus. You'll also have to adjust the floo so it will permit them."

Harry, eyes wide, nodded. "Right!"

/Remus is never going to believe this./ Harry told Hedwig. Then, just before he darted into the green fire, another thought hit him. /Oh dear sweet mother of Merlin. The twins. In the same building as the Queen!/


	7. Upping the Ante

Upping the Ante

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 6, 1992 Potter Castle

Harry scrambled through the floo, one hand on Hedwig to brace her against the spinning. As it was, they both still almost went sprawling, mostly thanks to Harry's rush to get back to the castle. He hurried through the process of adjusting the floo to allow the Queen and her Consort access to the castle. That done, he stuck his head back through and let Sirius know, then took off at a dead run to find Remus and Severus.

As luck would have it, he came perilously close to running Severus down on the stairs, only his Seeker reflexes and Severus' preternatural awareness of another person's proximity preventing disaster. Severus scowled at Harry.

"Mr. Potter. Might I inquire as to why you are in such a rush?"

Harry took a second to gulp in some air, then blurted out. "The Queen was at the Wizengamot. Sirius invited her over. They're on their way!"

Both of Severus' eyebrows headed for his hairline. "That would seem to be sufficient cause for haste." He admitted. Then he flicked his wand, causing his patronus to appear. He gave the glimmering doe the message and sent her off to warn Remus. "There. I have forewarned the wolf. I dare say it would behoove you to greet your guest."

Harry took another breath. "Right, right. Thanks!" And he took off back the way he'd come, to return to the Entrance Parlor.

Severus watched him go, mentally shaking his head. He'd spent the last day wrapping his head around the fact that he was free, thanks to Harry. It had been more than slightly surprising, if only because Severus' black, paranoid heart couldn't quite conceive of someone so totally rejecting the idea of being another person's lord and master that they managed to avoid that fate by somehow twisting magic to their will. Then again, Harry was Lily's son. It took no effort whatever to imagine Lily's reaction. 

A reaction that had wrung a sad smile or two from Severus over the last day. She would not have been content with merely warping magic to her will, Severus knew. She would have then promptly turned around and beaten Voldemort senseless for having the effrontery to enslave anyone. Given the plans that Black had and Harry agreed with, it was clear Harry's apple hadn't fallen very far from Lily's tree.

He gave a mental snort at himself and then headed back down to the potions lab. He'd started up to get something from the gardens, but given their visitors, he now planned on putting everything in stasis. He did not want to miss a moment of this meeting if he could avoid it.

"Fred, George, go clean up. We're having some unexpected, but very, very high-ranked visitors. I expect you both to be on your best behavior." Severus told the twins, pinning both boys with a glare. "If you embarrass me, I will take great pleasure in taking it out of your hides in ... exceedingly painful ways. Do I make myself clear?" Because the last thing they needed was the twins deciding it would be a grand idea to prank the queen.

"Understood, Severus." The two of them chirped in unison, and promptly dashed over to one of the big sinks in the lab to wash up before heading out of the lab, so they didn't accidentally track potion bits all over the castle.

Severus stayed only long enough to ensure that everything was properly stowed and under stasis charms before he headed back out.

Remus' patronus greeted him at the top of the stairs, letting him know they were convening in the meeting room on the first floor. Severus waited until the twins came hustling down the stairs from the third floor before he headed that direction.

They were greeted by a, for someone raised in the muggle world anyway, surreal sight. The Queen of England, dressed in one of her ubiquitous suit dresses, this one a handsome deep blue. Beside her was Phillip, dressed in a suit that, had he not been walking beside Elizabeth, would have allowed him to go unrecognized as the Queen's Consort, as it was devoid of any royal markings anywhere Severus could see.

Across from them was a nervous-looking Harry, Hedwig perched on his shoulder, with Sirius and Remus bracketing him. Sirius grinned when Severus and the twins walked in.

"Ahhh, excellent. We're all here. Your Majesties, I would like to introduce you to Potions Master Severus Snape, the premier potions master of the realm, and youngest Master of record, and his apprentices, Fred and George Weasley. This is Queen Elizabeth II, and her Consort, Phillip Mountbatten."

Severus somewhat regretted the fact that he could not see the twins' faces at the introduction. If Harry's face was anything to go by, their reaction was quite amusing. Severus resolved to inquire later.

"Your majesties." Severus greeted, giving them both a bow. He was gratified when the twins followed his lead, no hint on their usual hellery in their voices as they greeted their august guests.

"And this is Remus Lupin, majordomo to House Black and Potter." Sirius continued, indicating Remus.

"A pleasure to meet you all." Elizabeth said. "Now, Lord Black, I do believe you said we had quite a bit to discuss?"

Sirius nodded. "Definitely. But first, I need to know what you know of the current situation in the magical world, so I know where to start."

Elizabeth and Phillip shared a look. "Not much, I am afraid." Elizabeth finally admitted. "We have not been told overmuch. We know, of course, that you were fighting a war against a madman a little over a decade ago, and that it was bad enough that Minister Bagnold asked us not to attend the 1980 Wizengamot opening. Other than that, we have no idea."

Sirius grimaced. "So start at the very beginning then." He said.

"My speech wasn't even close to being hyperbole or exaggeration." He said. "Prior to the establishment of the Catholic church and the subsequent demonization of magic practitioners, wizards were well-thought of. I will even admit that going into hiding for a while was wise, because while adult, trained wizards were not truly threatened by the witch hunts and burnings, the same couldn't be said for children, especially the muggleborn ones. For their sakes if nothing else, we needed to go underground for a while."

Sirius sighed. "Unfortunately, it caused a lot of problems. We started to develop an us -versus- them mentality, to be afraid of everyone and everything that wasn't us ... and that eventually came to mean anyone who couldn't trace their magical heritage back a couple hundred years on both sides." He grimaced.

"As a result, the law that made us stay secret wasn't repealed after the hysteria died down in the late seventeen hundreds and early eighteen hundreds. The laws were actually tightened, made more extreme. To the point where even magical creatures were being persecuted, because they were not so-called pureblood wizards."

Elizabeth was frowning by that point. "Were they aware such laws were beyond their purview?" She asked. Despite their separate, secret status, wizards were still subjects of the crown, and required to follow the same sorts of laws. And while it was entirely probable that such discriminatory laws wouldn't have been a problem two hundred years ago, such was no longer true. It was now law that all were equal and could not be discriminated against.

"Probably." Sirius admitted. "The problem, your majesty, is that none of your predecessors were wizards, and thus fell under the same discrimination that every other muggle did in the eyes of the people making these laws. I guess they figured they didn't need to pay any attention to a mere muggle. And while you being a witch is an improvement, you are a muggleborn ... just barely a step up from a mere muggle in their eyes, and thus to be disdained and ignored."

"And why was nothing done?" Elizabeth demanded.

Sirius sighed. "Because my family was right smack in the middle of it, one of the biggest supporters of the extremist viewpoint." He admitted. "And while the Potters weren't, there was only so much they could do alone. And there was nothing your predecessors could really do about it. At best, if the Potters had appealed to you or your predecessors, it would have sparked a war with the Muggle world, as you rightly wouldn't have stood for what was going on. That wouldn't have ended well, for either side."

Elizabeth admitted he was right. Up until the World Wars, it would have been a tossup as to which side won, and there would have been rather extreme devastation on both sides. Even after the Wars, when winning tipped in favor of the muggles thanks to their aerial bombs, it still would have been rather ugly, as Elizabeth was aware that many of the wizarding world's high population areas were near or in high population areas for muggles.

"Anyway, the whole mess sort of came to a head a little before World War Two, with the rise of a nasty fellow by the name of Gellert Grindlewald." Sirius continued.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, I remember mentions of him, at the time. He was making a mess of Europe's magical communities about the time Hitler was traipsing about doing the same for the muggle world."

Sirius nodded. "He was an extremist. He eventually got taken down. But then, in the seventies, a new guy showed up, who made Grindlewald look like a tabbycat by comparison. That was about the time we." Sirius motioned to Remus and Severus. "Started school. A school that was little more than a recruiting ground for Voldemort, thanks to the Headmaster's willful ineptitude."

That made Severus blink at Sirius in surprise. Mostly at the fact that Sirius was aware and willing to admit that Dumbledore's actions and lack of action back then had left Hogwarts ripe for the picking, when it came to recruiting followers for Voldemort.

"We were getting our butts handed to us for most of that decade. Mostly thanks to the fact that the average citizen did nothing more than hide under their beds when the bad guys came calling." Sirius snorted in disgust. "These really are a weapon." He twirled his wand. "And we're all taught how to use them as such. It would be like having a gun at your side and knowing how to use it ... but refusing to shoot at the bastard threatening to kill your family and instead waiting for the cops to show up and save the day." He shook his head. "I know most folks wouldn't have won those fights, because Voldemort had some pretty dangerous followers, but knowing that they'd risk getting badly hurt if they attacked someone's house would have slowed them down, make them think twice about their attacks and whether it was worth the injury or loss of some of their people."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. While she didn't approve of such a mentality on an everyday basis, that sort of mentality during a war was not only desirable, but necessary. You had to make the enemy pay dearly in blood, sweat, and tears for every victory.

"Things, though, had a chance to change, back then." Sirius said with a grin. "Because of me. I was the first Black ... to be potential Heir, anyway ... to completely disagree with the Black Family politics to the point I fought with the Hogwarts Sorting Hat to not get sorted into the same House as the rest of my family. Even better, I became friends with the Heir to House Potter, James." Sirius winced.

"And things went wrong." Elizabeth said, accurately divining the cause of that wince.

"Badly wrong." Sirius agreed. "We didn't know it at the time, but it wasn't just because of Voldemort that things went wrong. It was also thanks to the so-called Leader of the Light, one Albus Dumbledore. When the dust settled, James and Lily were dead, I was in jail without benefit of even being properly charged, nevermind found guilty of a crime, and Harry was handed over to people that James and Lily specified in their wills that he was never to go to."

"All thanks to Dumbledore's manipulations?" Elizabeth asked.

"Not all his, no ... some of it was Bagnold and Crouch, but he sure didn't lift a finger to fix things, when he had the power to do so. And he was directly, personally at fault for taking Harry to the people he wasn't supposed to be raised by."

"How did things get untangled?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

Harry blushed crimson. "That was mostly me. Well, at the start anyway." He admitted. "It sort of snowballed after that, really fast."

"And how did you manage that?" Elizabeth asked, keeping her voice gentle so as to keep Harry from thinking he was in trouble, which he most definitely wasn't.

"Ummm, well ... I sort of got suspicious when the first letter for Hogwarts arrived, thanks to where it was addressed to." Harry admitted. "And who was sent to bring me to Diagon Alley. I adore Hagrid, really, but he's ... well, he's not even a teacher at Hogwarts, just the groundskeeper. So I wondered why it was that he was sent, and not a proper teacher, you know?"

Elizabeth and Phillip both nodded, encouraging Harry to continue.

"And Hagrid had my vault key, too. Which made me wonder. Because random strangers aren't generally given access to someone's bank account in the muggle world, and I didn't think that the wizarding world would be so different as to make that ok. So I stole my key out of Hagrid's coat pocket and headed back to Gringott's the next day. Which is when I found out about Sirius and Remus, and sent them letters. And sent a letter to Amelia Bones, who's the head of the DMLE. And that's when things started snowballing like crazy."

Sirius and Remus both laughed. "To put it mildly." Remus agreed, speaking for the first time.

"So what are your plans, Lord Black?" Phillip asked, likewise speaking for the first time.

"Force some changes. Abolish the prejudiced laws posthaste. Make it all but impossible for Voldemort to gain a foothold a second time. I'd much rather do it the way I've started, in the Wizengamot, but both Harry and I are prepared to force the issue magically. And I have a bad feeling it will come down to that, but I want to give everyone the chance to get their heads out of their asses first."

"Wait, gain a foothold a second time? What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"Put simply ... Voldemort wasn't killed, back in 1981. He was very, very badly hurt, and had to go into hiding, but he wasn't killed. He's in the process of coming back right now." Sirius admitted. "We only found out for sure that he was coming back about a month ago." When Quirrell had tried the third floor corridor.

Elizabeth frowned. She had no idea how that was even possible, but that hardly mattered. All that mattered was that the man was trying to restart a war, and thus needed to be stopped. "You have some sort of plan in place to deal with this Voldemort, I presume?" She asked.

"The start of one, anyway." Sirius said with a nod. "We need to figure out how the hell he was able to not die, so we can finish him off for good, but I've already started recruiting as many of the movers and shakers in the magical world as I can. I've also started getting in contact with the so-called 'commoners' from the various colonies, provinces, and protectorates. I hope to keep this in Britain, but in the eventuality that Voldemort takes the fight off these shores, we ought to be prepared."

"And what can we do?" Phillip wanted to know.

"Forewarn your people." Sirius said. "Your various law enforcement offices and military. Wizards are ... fairly easy to spot, for the most part. If they're not wearing robes, they're wearing truly outlandish combinations of muggle clothing. Tell your people that, if they come across wizards fighting, the ones wearing black robes and silver masks are the bad guys. And for them to not announce their presence. Muggles have no defense against spells cast at them, other than ducking and hiding." Sirius said. "But if they come across such a fight, and don't announce themselves, they'll have a good chance at being able to shoot at the bad guys from whatever cover they can find. And unless a wizard is specifically shielding against solid, thrown weapons ... which bullets would fit under ... they'd get hit."

"And how often do wizards shield against solid weapons?" Phillip wanted to know. While he had, over time, learned all the spells he was capable of, and knew the conventions for dueling, he knew next to nothing of the sorts of spells commonly used in a duel.

"Not all that often." Severus said, interjecting a comment for the first time. "Most spells used in magical fights don't produce solid items to fling at an opponent. Solid items to shield ones self with, yes, but to throw at an opponent, only rarely." Solid items being created was fairly common, of course, but tended to take the form of things like animals or plants, which weren't generally flung at people at speed, and were most easily fended off by conjuring a brick wall or the like, rather than a shield. "So long as your fighting forces keep themselves behind a wall or corner of a building or the like, they would be more or less fine. Though they should be instructed to have a speedy way to quit the battlefield if the enemy comes at them. As Lord Black has indicated, aside from ducking behind something solid, muggles have no defense against magical attacks."

"Though we might be able to come up with something, given a bit of time." Sirius admitted. "There isn't any such thing at the moment, because there's never been a need for it, but ... it might be possible to figure something out."

Phillip peered at Sirius for a moment. "And you would be willing to do this? To give muggles a defense against magical attacks?"

Sirius nodded. "My eventual goal." He admitted. "Is to fully reintegrate the wizarding world with the muggle. I won't see it happen in my lifetime, I don't think, but I'd like to have it well on its way to happening."

Phillip glanced at Elizabeth, who cocked her head and one eyebrow slightly. Phillip regarded Sirius for a long moment, thinking. Phillip had considered, occasionally, the possibility of making himself known to his natal family. And, every time the thought crossed his mind, he had immediately ignored it, as what little news he had of the magical world made it clear that the Blacks, whose reputation had not been the best even when his name had still been Marius, had fallen yet further from grace. There had been absolutely no benefit to reestablishing ties with them. There had, in fact, been the very strong likelihood of them attempting to gain control of the British muggle world through him, if he had made himself known.

This young man, this new Head of the House, was clearly out to change that. To take the House in a direction it had fled from for hundreds of years. And it was clear to him that, whatever else had occurred over the last half-century, Sirius had not been informed of Marius' fate, or he would have known who Phillip was and greeted him as such. Phillip was unsure if the cause of that was the Blacks' increasing criminality, or due to some other cause.

"There is one piece of information you should know, Lord Black, that you evidently do not, though I do not know the reason for the lack." Phillip said. "Centuries ago, your family made an agreement with a muggle family of note to exchange children in the event of a wizard being born to the muggles or a squib being born to the Blacks."

Sirius frowned. No, he hadn't heard about that. And he had no idea if his lack of knowing was because Orion had given up on him as a fit future Head of House, or because Orion, being the pureblood supremacist he was, had determined to end that agreement, so that the Black family would not be polluted by the presence of a muggleborn.

"To make a very long story short, Lord Black ... I was born Marius Black." Phillip said. "And decreed a squib at age nine, thus subject to being turfed out of the wizarding world."

Sirius blinked at Phillip for several long moments. He knew of Marius, of course. He'd heard about 'the squib' from Walburga often enough, in her rantings about the 'unfit' members of House Black. He'd had no idea as to Marius' fate, and as such, hadn't tried to find him when he'd taken full control of the House. Finding one man ... if he was still alive, which had not been guaranteed ... with absolutely no idea of what had become of him would have been a very, very tall order.

And then the realization hit. Of who Marius had become. And hard on the heels of that came the mental imagery of Walburga's likely reaction to the discovery. Actually, given that she was Marius' niece and wife to the Head of House, it was entirely possible she had known. And if she had, it would explain so, so much. Certainly, Orion, as Head of House, had to have known, and might have told her. Sirius started to snicker, which quickly dissolved into full-on laughter.

Remus was familiar enough with both the Black family and Sirius to have a very good idea of what had Sirius in such stitches, and was soon joining Sirius as he pictured Walburga's reaction to Marius' fate. Their laughter set Harry off, who didn't really understand what was so funny, but simply reacted to the infectious nature of their hilarity. The twins joined in shortly behind Harry, and even Severus was smirking after a few moments. Then again, so was Phillip.

"Yes, the thought of the family's reaction to finding out I married the Queen of England made my decade at the time, and has kept me amused whenever I have thought of it since then." Phillip admitted. "And that was without knowing the full truth of the depths to which they had fallen since my removal to the muggle world. I rather think their reaction was even more extreme than I imagined it to be."

"It probably was. If your niece Walburga knew, it would explain so very, very much about her attitude as an adult. A squib attaining such prominence would have driven her to a froth." Sirius said through his chuckles, once he'd wound down enough to be capable of speech. "Orion too, for that matter. And he had to have known, since he was doubtless given full disclosure before he took on the mantle of Head of House, unlike me."

Phillip's smile grew. "Now, imagine their reactions if they had discovered they were mistaken about my capabilities where magic is concerned."

Sirius' eyes went wide. "You're not a squib, then? Just didn't do anything really obvious before they decided to cut their losses?" This set him off again, and by the time his amusement died down to the point where he was merely snickering, he was almost on the floor.

"I am not a full wizard." Phillip admitted. "I was declared a squib when my name was discovered to not be on Hogwarts' list. But they forgot that not every wizard has strength enough to qualify to attend there."

Sirius finally sobered and pulled himself back onto the couch. "So you're a hedgewizard." He said. "Yeah, that would have given Orion and Walburga kittens. Arcturus, not so much, I don't think. He was a stuffy old geezer, but not horrible, at least not that I can remember." Sirius honestly couldn't figure out which would have horrified that pair more. That Marius was so weak, or that he had married a muggleborn, regardless of her rank in the muggle world.

"You mentioned wanting to integrate wizards into muggle society." Elizabeth said, getting things back on track, mostly. "Do you think it possible?"

"With some work, yes." Sirius said. "Muggles have got past the knee-jerk 'burn the witch' reaction now, and if it's done properly, the revelation that magic is real wouldn't throw things into chaos, at least for muggles. The wizarding world ... that's going to be a bit more of a challenge. At least for some parts of it. But I think it can be done, especially if we start educating the upcoming generation of witches and wizards accordingly. We may end up having to wait for the older generations to die off before full integration can be accomplished, though. Hence me saying it probably won't happen in my lifetime."

"A more detailed plan will need to be drawn up. A publicity campaign, perhaps, to introduce the idea." Phillip said, his tone thoughtful. "We would have to consult with appropriate authorities on how to accomplish the goal in the muggle world. But as we will have to confer with a number of people so as to be prepared for the looming war, that will hardly be a hardship. "And perhaps send a few of our fighting forces your way, to learn how best to attack and defend themselves where wizards are concerned?"

Sirius nodded. "That sounds like a plan to me." He agreed.

"Sirius." Harry said, speaking up for the first time, his voice somewhat hesitant. "Maybe we could get them pictures of the known Death Eaters? So they can recognize them if they show up without masks on?"

"Good idea, kiddo." Sirius said. "Yeah, we can do that pretty easily." Many of them could be found just looking through the family photo albums. And the ones that couldn't, had probably gotten their pictures taken for the Daily Prophet at some point or other, and it would be a simple enough task to track the pictures down.

Shortly after that, Elizabeth and Phillip left, quietly talking over plans of who to alert to the brewing trouble and how. Sirius and co were doing something similar, making plans on what to tell anyone that got brought to them for the training.

July 6, Malfoy Manor

Lucius bowed before the wizard currently playing host to Voldemort. "My Lord, we have a problem."

"Speak, Lucius."

"Black's been more clever than even I realized. He has consolidated a considerable powerbase, if the people who walked into the Wizengamot with him were any indication. He has essentially gutted Dumbledore's powerbase. And if the speech he gave is also any indication, he is going to not only fight us tooth and nail, but try to inspire everyone to follow his lead that is not one of us."

The wizard frowned. "You have a pensieve, do you not, Lucius?"

"Yes, my Lord." Lucius said, then (correctly) divined the direction of Voldemort's thoughts. "I will prepare the memory immediately, my Lord."

Lucius went to get his pensieve and pulled the memory out for Voldemort to peruse. Wasn't like there was a damn thing Voldemort could do, after all. People would either take Black's rhetoric to heart, or they wouldn't. And while Black had been exceedingly blunt about his political aims, Lucius couldn't help but think that Black was up tp more than that. Gryffindor he might have been, but he was still, after all was said and sifted, a Black. Lucius made due mental note to have Narcissa watch the memory. She might be able to divine more than Lucius had picked up on.

Voldemort watched the memory three times through, trying to make sure he caught every nuance. When he came out of the pensieve the third time, he headed straight for his quarters. "See that I am not disturbed." He commanded.

This was going to require some serious thought.

Voldemort paced as he turned things over in his mind. Black was up to more than he'd let on in that meeting, Voldemort was sure. Having met and interacted with the three previous Heads of House Black, as well as several other members of House Black, Voldemort was quite aware of how devious and dangerous that family was. It had been the main reason why Voldemort had gone to such pains to recruit that family to his side. He'd not wanted any part of having them for an enemy.

And now he had at least one of them as an enemy. Possibly more, though he was unsure just how many Blacks remained alive at this point. Something he was going to have to look into. And watch the ones that were in his camp like a hawk, because the Blacks had always, would always, put family first, ahead of all other allegiances.

The Wizengamot, Voldemort knew, was all but a lost cause. Black alone had more power than the entirety of the Wizengamot. With that detestable Potter in his corner, it was even worse. Still, Voldemort resolved not to just walk away from that particular battlefield. At the very least, fighting Black every step of the way in his attempted 'reforms' would slow things down and keep Black at least somewhat occupied. So he would instruct Lucius to keep trying to push the pureblood agenda, and block Black's reforms.

And if Black was successful in tying to rally everyone, Voldemort knew he was going to need a larger fighting force. He had fully intended to contact the more far-flung arms of his army once he had his own body again, but Black's actions meant he was going to have to do it sooner than expected. And he was also going to have to alter his plans for what target to use in the resurrection potion. He'd originally wanted Potter, but Voldemort was smart enough to realize that with Black as his watchdog, Voldemort's chances of getting Potter were all but nil. It wasn't a huge blow. There were, after all, other enemies he could use.

Decisions made, Voldemort left his rooms and commanded the first Death Eater he encountered to inform the rest that there was to be a meeting, immediately. It understandably didn't take all that long to get everyone gathered together. Voldemort stood at the head of the table.

"Our plans must needs move forward." Voldemort announced. "Rosier, I am charging you with traveling to rally our more far-flung allies. We will have need of them soon enough. Lucius, you are to continue your efforts in the Wizengamot. Give Black as much trouble as you possibly can."

Both men bowed as they received his orders. "We have three weeks before the potion is ready." He said, then turned to Barty. "In that time, I want you to plan a strike to bring an enemy to us at the appointed time. I will inform you as to which enemy in private."

Barty grinned ferally as he nodded his acceptance. "As you wish, My Lord."

"Yaxley, Nott, Macnair, the three of you are to plan an attack on Azkaban, to free those of our people who have been incarcerated all this time. This attack will take place the same day as my assumption of a new body." Thus drawing a lot of fire and attention a long way away from where the resurrection would be taking place.

The three men nodded their acceptance of their mission, and Voldemort continued. "Alecto, Amycus, I am charging you with rallying our forces here in the United Kingdom. I want everyone ready to march on Azkaban when it's time." The Carrows nodded their acceptance of their orders.

"Until the potion is ready, only Lucius will be actively acting on our behalf against the enemy. I do not want any attacks against muggles or mudbloods from now until the potion is ready. We need to lull them into as much a sense of complacency as possible."

"As you command, My Lord." And various variations on the sentiment greeted his command, and Voldemort nodded. "Dismissed."

Barty rightfully divined that the 'dismissed' applied to everyone but him, so he stayed in his seat while the others left to begin their assignments. Voldemort briefly raised some anti-eavesdropping spells, then gave Barty an evil smile before he told Barty who his target was.

Barty nearly laughed himself sick. This ... this was glorious. And would strike a fitting blow to the masses. Not to mention, it would prove for once and for all that there was, in point of fact, no one that his Lord feared.


	8. Choosing Sides

Choosing Sides

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Once again, I have stolen things. The Rt. Hon. Malcolm Rifkind PC QC MP was the real-world Secretary of State of Defense in the latter half of 1992. I mean no disrespect whatever by using him in this fic.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 7, 1992 Black Manor

It had been a very long three days for one Draco Malfoy. He'd done a lot of thinking, once he'd been freed of that thrice-damned spell. Well, mostly. Freed to the point he no longer need concern himself about it, at any rate.

Draco knew himself well enough to know he didn't have his father's flair for the political arena ... at least, not yet. But even he could see the writing on the wall. Black and Potter were allied. Potter's name would bring just about every Light-aligned House flocking to his banner, and Black would gather the neutrals and those in the Dark camp who really didn't want to be there. The conclusion was foregone. Somehow, some way, Voldemort was going to be permanently defeated.

A year ago, that would have dismayed him to the depths of his soul. Now, though ... now, things were much different. Now, he was rather bitterly irritated with himself for so thoroughly alienating himself from Potter. But perhaps there was a way he could regain some sort of favor in Potter's eyes. He would need an ally and go-between with the Slytherins in school. And Draco may have been quiet the last half of first year, but really, he was a firstie. His father's prominence aside, no firstie could hope to truly rule Slytherin House. For that matter, neither could a Second Year. But he could begin working on his yearmates, and the new firsties, and the third years. Feel them out, see which ones were fanatically loyal to the Dark Lord and which ones weren't.

The complication there was that while the kids might not be followers, the parents could be, and would be exceedingly displeased (to put it mildly) with their offspring for defecting. Which meant they'd need somewhere safe to stay, if they did take that option. But would Potter ... or Black ... be willing to house Slytherin defectors that weren't close-kin? Sure, pretty much every pureblood family had some relation to Black, and through Black to Potter, but in most cases, it was quite a few generations removed, now.

Eventually, he finally decided to approach his (human) caretaker. Who happened to be one of those fairly closely related relatives. She was the daughter of his great-great grandfathers' little brother. Not closely related, but close enough.

He tracked Cedrella down to one of the drawing rooms.

"Hello Draco." Cedrella said when she spotted him. "Looking for a bit of tea?" She asked.

Draco wasn't fooled. He'd not exactly taken care to ensure his face was blank, so it was probably pretty clear he had something on his mind. That said, Cedrella was a Slytherin, and knew better than to ask him straight out. Only Gryffindors were that blunt and straight forward.

"That would be appreciated, yes." He said. "Thank you."

Cedrella called for Kreacher, who popped in, out, and then back in again, this time with a tray holding cups, pot, and plates of sandwiches.

There was quiet for a bit as tea was poured and doctored according to taste, and both it and the food were consumed. Only when Draco had poured himself a second cup did he finally broach the subject.

"I don't really know what to do." He finally admitted. "There is no way I'm ever going to be a Death Eater. But at the same time, I completely bollixed things with Potter, and I seriously doubt he's going to let me anywhere near him, much less listen to anything I have to say."

Cedrella smiled at Draco. "Septimus and I did not get along at all, when we were first married. There was a lot of fighting, a lot of unfortunate things said, because Septimus didn't trust me, and I initially thought him an ignorant fool." No need to say why, given the parties involved. "I eventually offered to take Veritaserum and let him question me, to set his mind at ease. After that, things improved drastically."

Draco considered that. While it would be uncomfortable, he really didn't have anything to hide. No ambitions to wipe out muggleborns or anything of that nature, even if he did think they were inferior to purebloods. "That ... would probably work with Potter." He said.

"It would at least clear the air between you." Cedrella agreed. "But I am curious as to why you would want to side with Potter openly."

Draco snorted. "Professor Snape already has." Well, he'd sided openly by Slytherin standards, anyway, which was markedly more subtle than the other houses' versions. "But there's only so much he can do with the students. They're not about to go to him if they're thinking of jumping ship. And they're for damn sure not going to approach Potter himself, either."

Cedrella nodded. "So they need a go-between, someone who speaks their language and understands their concerns, and can convey that to Harry."

"And Harry's going to need to know who to watch out for ... who the die-hard Voldemort supporters are." Draco continued. "Which will be fairly easy to ferret out, but only by someone in the House who interacts with them in private." 

Because Slytherins almost never gave such things away in public. And everyone in that category would be being very careful around Professor Snape, knowing he'd chosen the other side, and was, to put it bluntly, a hellaciously dangerous enemy. Who knew everything that was said and done in the dorms. The going explanation for that one was the house elves, but Draco wasn't entirely convinced, himself. All he knew was that there was no detectable spellwork involved.

"Will you contact him for me?" Draco asked. Draco had no idea where Potter was at, and was not permitted in the room with the floo, so he couldn't overhear anything, or try to go anywhere. Not that he was really wanting to take off, but Cedrella was taking precautions.

Cedrella nodded. "Yes. It'll have to wait until later, as he's in session right now, but I'll contact him."

July 7, 1992 Wizengamot

Sirius was so very much looking forward to today. He'd dropped one hell of a bombshell on the Wizengamot yesterday, and now it was time to see what sort of reaction there was going to be, now that people'd had a bit of a chance to stop and think.

Harry wasn't quite as thrilled with going back to the Wizengamot, but he supposed he'd eventually get used to it. He twitched and fussed at his robes until Hedwig, perched on his shoulder, had enough of his squirming and nipped his ear.

//Relax, Harry-chick. You survived yesterday, didn't you? And that was with the Queen showing up. Today will be easy by comparison. Remember, Sirius will be the one taking all the heat. You just get to sit and watch.//

Harry snorted, but then relaxed. Hedwig had a point. As usual. //What would I do without you, Hedwig?// 

//Aren't you glad you'll never have to find out?// Hedwig asked, her voice smug, pleased, amused and deeply affectionate all at once.

//You have no idea.// "All right, Sirius. Let's get this over with." Harry said aloud.

Sirius gave Harry a commiserating grin. "Yeah, then we can get back here and have some fun." He led the way to the floo.

This time, while the Black/Potter Alliance members entered together, it was not with the deliberate pomp and circumstance of the day before, where they'd more or less literally marched in in rows by rank, specifically to make a point. This time, they walked in in a more normal knot.

Not that the knot was having less of an effect on everyone than the by-ranks march of the day before. If anything, the fact that they were grouped together in a knot was more interesting to their observers.

Harry and Neville, the only underage attendees in the group, had automatically been surrounded by the adults. But neither Sirius nor Augusta was hovering closest to the two boys, as both of them were towards the outside of the knot, talking with other adults. It was Septimus and Moody that were hovering over the boys, Moody blatantly giving everyone the evil eye, hand hovering over his holstered wand. Which had been holstered only because it was required by law to be holstered in the chamber. Septimus was chatting with both boys, though anyone not in the knot would have been unable to eavesdrop by any means ... not only had Septimus cast anti-spying spells before they came in, so had Moody. And the other adults had all cast anti-spying spells over their own conversations, too, which meant that everyone's spells were overlapping and strengthening each other.

They'd arrived far earlier today than they had the day before, on purpose. It didn't take long for the first of the Wizengamot members not in the alliance to wander over. Incredibly, it wasn't Dumbledore leading the charge.

Harry spent the next half-hour deeply grateful to both Augusta's instruction and Sirius' able mimicry. Also, Septimus and Moody's immediate presence, which scared off the nastier sorts. Not to mention Hedwig, since their bond allowed him to snark and boggle without mortally offending anyone. Because the various Lords were every bit as bad as Sirius had made them out to be, if not worse. When everyone finally had to split up to go to their assigned seats, Harry blew a relieved mental breath.

//Thank Merlin that's over. Gah. I didn't think it was possible for Sirius to be understating how bad they'd be, but he was.//

Hedwig laughed. //Just think, you have over a century of dealing with people like that to look forward to.//

Harry barely managed to keep his sputtering mental. //Gee, thanks, Hedwig. Just remember, you have that long of dealing with them to look forward to as well, because if you think I'm going to suffer this in silence ... // He fought down a snicker at the blast of amused irritation he got from Hedwig, along with the ear nip followed by a brief hair-preen.

Malcolm Davis called the meeting to order, then gave the door behind him a look, waiting a moment before he attempted to continue. After yesterday, he wasn't about to take it on faith that the Queen wasn't here. When the door didn't open, he turned back around and got down to business.

"Lord Malfoy, I believe you had a new issue you wished to bring before this body?" Malcolm said, glancing over at Lucius.

Lucius took a deep breath as he got to his feet. This was not going to be easy, even if it would be fun. It had been a long time since Lucius had faced a new challenge. He'd long since learned how to work around Dumbledore.

"I did. But I first feel I must address Lord Black's statements." Lucius said. "He claimed we were afraid, due to a brief period of persecution. I wonder if close to a thousand years can be called brief. He said our world has become troubled and shrunken because of fear. And why should we not be afraid? Not only do muggles kill us in droves, but muggleborns pollute and destroy our society and traditions at will."

You could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Everyone in the room was riveted, wondering what Sirius' comeback was going to be. Most of the folks not allied to one side or the other were actually sitting forward in their seats a bit, even if they half-expected to hear more of the sort of half-truths and worthless reassurances that Dumbledore handed out like candy.

Sirius had a very disconcerting smirk on his face as he got to his feet. "A thousand years of persecution, you say? Not hardly. It is true we were hunted down for a time. Back in the four hundreds, and again in the sixteen hundreds. For roughly a hundred years, both times. Then things died down. There are still the odd individuals that hunt witches, but it's been several hundred years since it was a government-subsidized sport."

"As for muggleborns polluting and destroying our society and traditions ... yes, that happens. But it's hardly their fault." That admittance got a reaction from the crowd, a sort of surprised murmur. Sirius started pacing, much as he had the day before. "Since the secrecy act was put into place, muggleborn children have only been informed of their status when they turn eleven. This gives them, at most, eleven months to learn everything their same-age pureblood counterparts know. Things it took their pureblood counterparts the entire previous eleven years to learn. How then is it the muggleborns' faults when they don't know everything? How can we blame them for not knowing things when they've simply not had time to learn them?"

Sirius turned to face Lucius. "You want the Muggleborns to stop stepping on pureblood toes? Tell their parents what they are the moment they're identified. Have them be sponsored in the wizarding world by a pureblood, who would be responsible for their education in social interaction and tradition."

Sirius was deeply tempted to go on a 'and besides, not all traditions are good ones' rant, but knew he'd lose his audience if he did that now. "Besides, Lord Malfoy ... nothing you can do will stop muggleborns from being born. I'm sure you remember your lessons on what happens if magical ability is left untrained."

That one got a flinch out of everyone. Because left untrained, a wizard's life inevitably ended in tragedy. Either their magic went wild and ended up killing them or driving them insane, or they started experimenting with this 'mysterious ability' and killed themselves or worse.

"I am fairly sure that several dozen cases or more a year of people exhibiting out of control magical abilities would cause more problems than teaching them what they need to know to control themselves." Sirius said. "The answer to the so-called Muggleborn problem has never been isolation, or legislating them to within an inch of their lives in an effort to control them and their effect on our world. It's a shame that no one has managed to see that before now."

After that, the wrangling truly began. Harry watched as Lucius and Sirius went at each other over ... well, pretty much everything Sirius had outlined that he wanted to do, the day before. Again and again, Lucius tried to make Sirius look bad, one way or another, but Sirius had clearly been planning this for a while, because he had calm, reasoned answers for every jab. And unless Harry was much mistaken, Sirius looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

And as Harry watched, he saw more and more people not in the Alliance go from neutral or skeptical expressions to thoughtful ones and even an occasional agreeing expression. There was, of course, still the die hard Death Eaters, and Dumbledore's much-shrunken pool of loyal supporters, but it was becoming clear that more and more people were beginning to lean towards agreeing with Sirius. Whether they would actively choose sides or not remained unknown.

Finally, eventually, the session wrapped up, with Sirius and Lucius having hashed out quite a few things in all their arguing. Lucius didn't look too terribly pleased with the results, but Harry wasn't sure if that was play-acting or not. Sirius, on the other hand, was deeply, smugly pleased with how things had played out if the look on his face as they walked out was anything to go by.

They'd been home for less than an hour when Cedrella contacted them, letting them know about Draco. Harry shared a look with Sirius, then sighed and agreed to talk to Draco the next day. 

July 7, 1992 Bones Manor

Amelia Bones sighed as she flopped into her favorite chair in the drawing room. The last two days in the Wizengamot had been unexpectedly eye-opening.

Oh, she'd known something was going to happen. How could it not, with Sirius free? Sirius had a hell of an axe to grind with the Wizengamot, and Amelia had foreseen him doing something to spit in their faces for that reason alone when she'd set him loose.

It had been part of the reason she hadn't, thus far, thrown her weight behind the Alliance, the other part being that she had made a point of staying out of the various alliances in the Wizengamot over the years. She hadn't been entirely sure that this wasn't going to be a revenge stunt. But it was clear now that Sirius had more than revenge on his mind. He'd thought this through. Possibly had done so while he was still a student, or more probably, during his long years in Azkaban. Whichever it was, he knew exactly what he wanted, and clearly had at least a fairly good idea of how to get it.

That alone, of course, wasn't enough to get Amelia to sign on. She wasn't famous for her impartiality, incorruptibility and sense of justice for nothing. She wasn't about to put her hat in with someone whose ideals she didn't agree with as close to one hundred percent as humanly possible.

Thing was, Sirius was going after every unjust, unfair thing in the lawbooks that Amelia had always hated, and quite a few she hadn't had the time or energy to waste on hating. His suggestions were reasonable, and almost entirely in line with what Amelia thought.

Better still, from everything Amelia had heard through the grapevine, Sirius had not once attempted to blackmail, frighten, or buy supporters. He may have tailored his recruitment speech according to who he was trying to get to join his cause, but it seemed like he'd only emphasized the parts of his scheme that he knew a person would like best. He hadn't, at least as far as Amelia could tell, lied to anyone about what he was up to. After dealing with the other Wizengamot members, many of whom lied as easily as breathing, the honesty was refreshing, and very appealing.

In short, there was a long list of reasons supporting taking sides, and an incredibly short list of reasons not to. Amelia sighed as she called her house-elf to bring parchment, quill and ink. She'd been putting Lord Black off long enough. It looked like she was going to be picking sides.

July 7, 1992 Buckingham Palace

By the time Elizabeth and Phillip had returned to the palace, it had been entirely too late at night to summon anyone for a meeting right then. Elizabeth had settled for summoning everyone to a meeting just after breakfast in the morning.

As it was to be a working meeting, not a state one, both Elizabeth and Phillip were relatively dressed down, in a suit dress and suit respectively. At nine in the morning precisely, a total of ten people were gathered in one of the smaller, more private meeting rooms near the royal living quarters.

The men and women thus summoned got very grim-faced when they saw the company they were keeping when they arrived. None of them were anywhere near being idiots, and when the Heads of three national anti-terrorism units, the head of MI5, and the Secretary of State of Defense were all present, each with their most trusted subordinates at their sides, it was pretty clear to everyone in the room that something big was going on. Big and nasty.

Elizabeth and Phillip walked in then, seating themselves across from the group.

"We thank you for coming." Elizabeth said. "As you can see by whom has been asked to attend, we have a very serious matter to discuss."

Elizabeth and Phillip took turns explaining the existence (and concealment) of the magical world, providing proof of magic's existence by casting a few spells each. Understandably, there were a lot of questions the gathered company had to ask, so it was well past lunch before Elizabeth and Phillip could get around to the reason for why everyone had been summoned.

"Unfortunately, not all news regarding this matter is good." Elizabeth said. Then she and Phillip explained the Voldemort situation, and the fact that the muggle world would likely come under attack sometime soon.

"We are trusting Lord Black to get the magical world back in line." Elizabeth said. "He seems quite a sensible man, especially given what he has suffered. But we must needs prepare to defend ourselves when these Death Eaters decide to target non-magicals. Which I have been assured by Lord Black will happen, sooner rather than later."

She turned to her Secretary of State of Defense. "Mr. Rifkind, much of the burden of organization shall fall to you, on this matter. We are at your disposal for any further information you require in order to plan an effective defense."

Rifkind nodded, looking grim-faced. He was going to be very, very busy. "I would like to observe at least one battle typical for magic-users." He admitted. "It would aid in knowing how best to organize things and warn your various units without alerting them to what, exactly, they're up against." Because Rifkind completely agreed with keeping the existence of magic from general knowledge, especially right now. He knew that if people discovered the existence of magic during a magical war, they'd come to the conclusion that magic was bad, period. Which would lead to tragedy. If there was to be any chance at all of magicals reintegrating at some point in the future, the discovery of the existence of magic needed to happen when magicals weren't trying to kill each other and any non-magicals that got in their way in the process.

"I'll speak with Lord Black and ensure a demonstration is available as soon as possible." Elizabeth promised. That would, of course, have to wait, as she knew he would be in the Wizengamot right now.

After that, she and Phillip mostly sat back and let the others hash possibilities out among themselves, only speaking up when necessary to provide a bit of information or nudge the group away from an idea they knew wouldn't work. Once evening fell, Elizabeth left long enough to floo-call Sirius.

July 7, 1992 Potter Castle

It was proving to be a very busy day, Harry thought. No sooner had they returned home, than the floo had lit up, with Cedrella calling.

The news that Draco wanted to talk to him, and was willing to take veritaserum, was a bit of a shock, but after a bit of thought about it, Harry decided to agree. Draco had been a complete jerk the first half of the year, it was true, but Harry was willing to believe he'd had a chance of heart, given what had happened to him.

Sirius had sent Toker after Severus, since Severus would know if they had veritaserum and its antidote on hand, and if it was viable (if it was from the Castle's preserved stock), as well as knowing how much to administer. Severus arrived in the Entrance Parlor a few minutes later, and he and Harry departed for Black Manor.

Mere minutes after they'd left, Sirius, much to his surprise, found himself fielding a call from the Queen, which he hadn't expected for at least another couple of days.

"Of course, your Majesty. We can very easily arrange a dueling demonstration. The only question would be where to do it." Sirius thought things over. He didn't want to bring so many people to Potter Castle, and Black Manor didn't have anywhere big enough for a duel. But if he recalled correctly, the Potters had a farming property that would be ideal ... plenty of room to move, and easily hidden from outside eyes, if it wasn't already. "I think I have a place in mind, but I need to make sure. Hang on just a moment." Sirius pulled his head out of the floo and then called for Toker.

"Toker." He said once the Head elf had appeared. "Am I right in thinking that the Potters have a good-sized farming property somewhere?"

"Yes, Master Sirius, you is right." Toker said. "They is having several."

"Oh, even better. Are any of them laying fallow right now?" Sirius asked.

Toker thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, two of them is, Master Sirius."

"Excellent, where are those two, and how big are they?"

Toker told him, and Sirius thanked him, then returned to the fire to tell Elizabeth where the demonstration could take place.

"Whenever is convenient for your advisors is fine ... I can get a group of people together for a demonstration very quickly." Sirius said.

Elizabeth nodded. "Let us plan for tomorrow, then, as my advisors need this information to plan appropriately."

Sirius nodded. "You got it. I'll send word out yet tonight, see who can come play tomorrow."

"Our thanks, Lord Black. Until tomorrow." Elizabeth said, then removed herself from the fire.

Less than an hour after that, Sirius received Amelia's owl, with her agreement to take sides with the Alliance. Sirius whooped and did a war-dance around the office where the owls delivered mail, grinning like a fiend. He had done something no one else had ever managed ... got Amelia to take sides. That was one hell of a coup, especially since he hadn't done a damn thing to force it. He'd contacted her the once and then backed off, let her make up her own mind.

Dumbledore was going to have kittens.

July 7, 1992 Black Manor

Harry hadn't quite been sure what to expect when he and Severus arrived at Black Manor, but Cedrella and Draco sitting calmly in one of the parlors, having a late tea and, apparently, quite civil conversation, hadn't been it.

"Hello Cedrella." Harry greeted her, then took a breath. "And Draco."

"Lord Potter, Professor Snape." Cedrella and Draco both said, their words overlapping one another.

Harry sat down, as did Severus. "Severus brought the veritaserum, but I'd like to do this without it." Harry said.

Draco nodded. "I really don't plan on lying to you anyway, so I appreciate that." He'd hoped Harry wouldn't use the stuff, but had been prepared to deal with it if he had.

"Basically, there is no way on this earth I am ever becoming a Death Eater, or going to help them accomplish their aims." Draco said, then shuddered. "Not after that bedamned spell. I can't lie and tell you I think muggleborns are best or anything like that, but ... " Draco grimaced and trailed off.

"But believing purebloods are best is very different from running around torturing and killing muggleborns." Harry said, which had Draco nodding. "Fair enough."

"I do want to help you, though." Draco said. "And I think I have a good idea how. You're ... well, you. And a Gryffindor to boot. The vast majority of the kids whose parents were Death Eaters won't come anywhere near you, even if they're having second thoughts." Draco snorted. "And they won't approach Professor Snape about it, either. At least, not right now. Everyone in Slytherin realizes he's changed sides, but most of them are convinced it's some sort of trick, that Professor Snape's actually only pretending to be on your side, so that he can snatch you up and deliver you to the Dark Lord at the first opportunity."

"And if that is true, speaking to me of their concerns would be dangerous." Professor Snape said with a nod. "I had assumed such was the case."

"But I'm one of them. I can talk to them, and they might just listen. And I can listen in on them, find out who's wavering and who's totally loyal." Draco said. "I may even be able to sway a few to your side ... it's not like our parents were all that honest about what they were required to do as Death Eaters. Finding out the truth would shake quite a few of them up."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"But that brings us to a big problem." Draco said. "Because while the kids may be wavering, or not wanting to serve Voldemort, their parents might be wholly loyal. And trying to buck their parents will not go well."

"Which means some or all of them will need somewhere safe to spend summers at least until they're seventeen." Harry said. "And some may well need money to get started in life, if their parents decide to disown them." He nodded. "I can do that. I have a bunch of properties they can stay at. I'd have to talk to Sirius about getting them set up for long-term occupation but that wouldn't take long ... it'd be ready by the time school starts again." He shot Draco a look. "I wouldn't be willing to shell out thousands of galleons per person, but I'd be happy to give anyone that needs it enough to get started with, either that or free room and board at one of my properties until they get a job. All they'd have to do in return is give an oath to not aid Voldemort or any of his supporters in any way."

Draco nodded. "That's fair." He agreed. "I can spread the word on that with those that might be interested."

Harry considered for a few moments, then finally offered. "Draco ... you could come to the Castle, if you want? Fair warning, the twins are living there, since they're Severus' apprentices, and most of the other Weasleys will be in and out."

Draco grimaced a bit. Weasleys. Faugh. But then again ... as with serving Voldemort, the Malfoy-Weasley feud wasn't his doing. That had been Septimus Weasley and his father, and Draco actually had no clue why the two of them hated each other so. Lucius refused to speak of it, and Draco hadn't exactly had uninterrupted, uncontested access to anyone other than his mother that might know what had happened. and if she knew, she wasn't talking either.

Besides, they couldn't be all bad. Professor Snape would not have apprenticed the twins unless they had true merit, and the oldest two boys had, by all accounts, begun to do well for themselves. Really, the only problem would be the youngest boy, Harry's dorm mate. And if Draco had read the situation right, that particular Weasley would not be about much. For one, there didn't seem to be much in the way of friendship between Harry and the Weasley, merely tolerance. And secondly, that Weasley was a lazy lout who would be disinclined to anything even remotely resembling scholastic effort during the summer. So Draco would probably be dealing primarily with the more tolerable Weasleys, of the children. And staying here, with just himself, Cedrella, and two house elves for company would drive him insane in short order. Oh, speaking of!

"Would Nippy, my house-elf, be permitted to enter the Castle?" Draco asked.

Harry grimaced. "I'd have to talk to Sirius and Toker, our head elf, about that. If she was allowed in, she'd be limited in what she could do and where she could go." Because Harry was not thrilled with the idea of letting an elf that was bound to someone else have free reign in the Castle.

"Fair enough." Draco said.

Harry nodded. "I'll talk things over with Sirius, and let you know what's going on tomorrow." He sighed. "And we'd better get going. We've got another long day tomorrow, at this rate."

They all said their goodbyes and headed out. Once they were back in the Castle, Harry turned to Severus.

"What do you think?" He asked.

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me?" He wanted to know.

"Because you're a Slytherin, and know how they think, and I don't." Harry said. "Besides, you saw more of him last year than I did. So you know him a bit better."

Severus gave an amused snort. "He is sincere." He said. "He was being positively transparent, for a Slytherin, but I imagine he realized that he had more to gain with full honesty than with word games."

Harry nodded. "All right. I'll talk to Sirius and then we'll figure out where to go from there." He said, then headed off to find his godfather, and his familiar, since he'd left Hedwig at the Castle because of her dislike of floo travel (and she'd already had to travel by floo twice today).

He found Sirius in the third-floor family room, on one of the couches closest to their rooms and the portrait of Harry's parents, talking quietly with James. Harry flopped down next to him, and waved at the portrait.

"Hi dad."

"Hello, Harry. Long day?" James asked, looking faintly amused at Harry's loose-limbed exhaustion. 

Harry lifted a hand lazily to pet Hedwig when she flew in and landed on the back of the couch by his head. "Like you wouldn't believe." Harry said. "Wizengamot, talking with Draco Malfoy ... yeesh."

"Add in talking to the queen again, and getting a letter from Amelia Bones saying she's willing to side with us." Sirius said.

Harry sat up a bit, looking surprised. "Really? But I thought you said she never took sides, and that you didn't think she'd take sides now?"

"I did." Sirius said. "I guess she liked what she was hearing in the Wizengamot yesterday and today, or something." Sirius said.

"So what did the Queen want?" Harry asked.

"She wanted to set up a dueling demonstration." Sirius said. "For her advisors, so they know what they're going to be up against. I've already contacted most of the Alliance, and about three-fourths of them are available. We're going to be heading to one of your properties, a farm that's lying fallow, tomorrow for the demonstration."

"Cool. Can us kids come watch? We're probably going to need to know, ourselves." Harry pointed out.

Sirius grimaced. "Don't remind me. But yes, you can come. The others will have to ask their parents or guardians if they can come." He reached over and ruffled Harry's hair. "So what did Draco want?"

"Not all that much, really. Just to let me know that he wasn't ever going to go anywhere near the Death Eaters, which I had sort of already guessed. He'd have to have been terminally stupid to join them after what Barty did to him."

"Agreed." Sirius said. "Anything else?"

"He offered to be the go-between for the kids of Death Eaters." Harry said. "But he pointed out that some of them were going to need a safe haven if they changed sides, because some of their parents would not approve of that at all."

Sirius nodded. "Very true. That'd be easy enough to set up. You've got a number of properties going begging. I can have Bill start going over them, see which ones are the best ones for the purpose."

Harry nodded. "I thought so. I did tell Draco that they'd have to make an oath not to help Voldie or his supporters, and that if they did, they'd get the safe haven, and any of them that got disowned would either get free room and board until they got a job, or a small sum to get them started with."

Sirius nodded again. "That'll get quite a few more considering switching. Having a viable way out, and a chance at a future, rather than ending up on the streets, would make it far more tempting."

"I offered to let him stay here." Harry said. "Staying at the manor alone is bound to drive him bonkers. He asked if it would be possible for his house elf Nippy to come here."

Sirius frowned. "I'd have to talk to Toker. I'm fairly sure there's ways to limit a strange elf's movements, but I can't remember what they are offhand. Speaking of ... we haven't seen hide nor hair of that Dobby character since the other day. I wonder what he's up to?"

"Malfoy freed him, so it could be anything." Harry said.


	9. Defense and Dragons

Defense and Dragons

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 18, 1992 Buckingham Palace

Malcolm Rifkind had had a very, very busy week and a half.

He'd had a long and very successful career thus far. One he had not honestly expected, when he'd first stood in Parliment in 1974. He'd not quite had the gumption to dream he'd come so far and accomplish so much in his entire life, nevermind in less than two decades.

He'd known that being Secretary of State of Defense would be his greatest challenge. He'd faced some stiff opposition from certain quarters already, despite only being in office for a few months. Now, though, that opposition seemed small change in the face of what he had discovered in the last week and a half, and was being asked to do.

Formulating a viable means of defense against magical terrorists was an unprecedented challenge, but Malcolm had discovered that he rather liked it. Liked having to think outside the box and come up with a solution to a problem none of his predecessors had faced.

The combat demonstration Lord Black had arranged had been ... most informative. At the very least, it would be blatantly obvious when a magical fight was taking place, thus making it easier to ascertain when they needed to get people to safety. If the flashes of colored light didn't tip off the local constabulary, the truly ridiculous clothing would.

Formulating an explanation for the mayhem that made the situation seem dire enough for the constables to obey the 'get everyone, including yourselves, out of the area' order without question, without mentioning magic, had proved to be an interesting exercise. Getting the various intelligence operatives to keep their ears open for certain key words, again without explaining magic, had been another challenge.

Now all they had to do was figure out how to fight, rather than depending on running and hiding. That, unfortunately, was going to be almost entirely in the hands of Lord Black and his allies, as nothing the United Kingdom currently had provided protection from magical assault except for solid wood, brick, concrete or metal walls and tank armor. None of which was easily transportable to where they might be needed. Not even personal armor had been proof against some of the nastier spells, though Rifkind had been given to understand that the one spell, at least, had no magical counter except for blocking it with something very thick and solid.

It would take time to ensure that the various precincts would be on the lookout and report promptly. Rifkind just hoped they had enough time, since from what Lord Black had told them, things were going to explode sooner rather than later.

He settled at the desk in the office that the Queen had allotted him for the duration of this crisis, as she had wanted him close by, as her liaison to the other official in the know. His presence in and about the palace would be fairly unremarkable, due to his office, while the others being seen coming in and out regularly would raise eyebrows.

He was delighted to find a rolled-up scroll of paper (actual paper, not parchment) with the Black Family seal on them sitting on top of several other reports and memos. The scroll bore unexpected dividends. A week and a half ago, the idea of obtaining pictures of the various known so-called Death Eaters had been raised, and Lord Black had agreed that it would be wise to have them available, and would see to obtaining some.

And now here they were, each set of photographs neatly labeled and attached to a report that gave the person's name, age, general combat ability, known crimes committed, and current status (Supposedly dead, at large, incarcerated, or unknown). Given that at least one Death Eater everyone had thought was dead was, in fact alive, Lord Black had evidently decided to err on the side of caution and assume nothing in regards to any of the Death Eaters.

Malcolm gave a pleased hum, and immediately pulled up the form for 'Wanted' posters on his computer. It would take perhaps an hour or so to transfer the necessary information, and translate the magical crimes to a mundane equivalent. From there, it would be a simple matter to distribute the posters and have the entire island on the lookout for Death Eaters.

There was a note from Lord Black, apologizing for the delay, and confirming he had been unable to find photographs of two or three Death Eaters on such short notice, and that he'd send them along as soon as he'd found them. He also reassured Malcolm that his allies were working on the problem of protecting muggles from magic, but that it would probably be some time before there was any success.

July 17, 1992 Potter Castle

Harry had been looking forward to this trip since Charlie had first mentioned it way back around Christmastime. Not that Charlie had talked about much of anything except dragons. Not that Harry blamed him! It was pretty clear some amazing things were happening at the Romanian reserve. Better still, almost every reserve on the planet was now starting to try to work with their dragons, though they were having variable rates of success.

It helped that it was going to be just Harry, Hedwig and Sirius on this trip. Harry was looking forward to a weekend of having Sirius to himself. Sirius had even promised to ignore the various plots, plans, and duties that had been dividing his attention all summer thus far, unless of course there was a big attack. But it was looking like that wasn't going to happen, because the Death Eaters had gone quiet. Lucius had even confirmed that it was by Voldemort's order, which meant the chances of anyone launching an attack were nil. And the initial furor in the Wizengamot had settled down. It all made this a perfect time to get away and spend some concentrated time together.

Harry grinned as he tossed a few heavy shirts into the rucksack he was taking with him to Romania. Sirius had reminded him that even though it was summer, the reserve was in the mountains, where it would be a good deal cooler, especially at night. Not cool enough for jumpers, certainly, but Harry figured a few thick shirts wouldn't go amiss.

//Looking forward to this, Hedwig?// Harry asked.

//As long as those dragons don't mistake me for a tasty tidbit, yes.//

//Are you ... nervous, Hedwig?// Harry couldn't quite decide whether to be amused or not.

//A bit. They are dragons, after all.//

//Point. But don't worry. As long as you stay with me you should be fine. They haven't shown aggression to people in months, now.//

//And Charlie got to ride Seren. Even if it was completely unplanned.// Hedwig sounded very amused.

Harry didn't much blame her, as he started snickering. //He was so excited he was making no sense when he floo called about that, according to Sirius!// Harry had missed that particular announcement, as it had come after he'd unraveled Severus' Dark Mark and collapsed into unconsciousness.

//He most definitely was.// Hedwig said. While she'd been watching over an unconscious Harry and hadn't heard the news directly herself, it had been a bit hard to miss Sirius' hilarity at, and imitation of, Charlie's incoherence.

//Well, I think that's all we'll need for the next couple days. We'd better head for bed. We're getting up at the crack of dawn tomorrow in order to get to the preserve by nine am their time.//

July 18, 1992 Romanian Dragon Reserve

The only part of this whole trip that Harry was not at all thrilled about was the fact they'd be going by portkey. Being side-along apparated was bad enough. Sirius' description of portkey travel made it sound about a hundred times worse.

Sirius, true to his morning-hating standard, was still half-asleep standing up and yawning despite two cups of strong tea when they headed out the front gate of the Castle, to get beyond the castle's wards so they could portkey when the time came. Harry couldn't quite restrain a snicker at Sirius' sleepiness. Thus far, the only time Sirius had been awake and coherent before about ten in the morning had been Christmas morning.

Sirius gave Harry a mildly exasperated look when he caught Harry's amusement. "Just remember, pup. I'll be the one laughing in about five minutes."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Portkeys are horrible. Especially international portkeys. I heard you the first three times."

Sirius waved the old, worn belt that was their portkey at him. "Well, grab on then. That goes double for you, Hedwig. We don't want to lose you somewhere over the continent if you lose your grip."

Hedwig gave Sirius an indignant cackle and actually stuck her tongue out at him, which had Harry doubling over in laughter. Sirius mock-grumbled under his breath and smiled as he shook his head. Harry sobered enough to grab the belt after a moment or two.

A minute later, they were off.

Sirius hadn't been kidding. International portkeys were hell. Harry ended up on his knees, clinging to the ground, waiting for the world to stop spinning so fast and obscurely grateful that he wasn't prone to throwing up when dizzy or he'dve been in real trouble. For that matter, he was grateful that he wasn't as prone to getting dizzy as some (otherwise he'd never be able to pull off the maneuvers he did on a broom) because if he had been ... ugh.

After a minute, Harry was able to get to his feet and look around. His eyes went wide and he let out a soft 'oh'.

The view was more than making up for the means of getting there.

The Romanian reserve was located in the heart of the Carpathian Ranges, right smack in the center of Romania, situated between Tigru Mures, Piatra-Neamf, Brasov and Focsani and roughly 300 square kilometers of mountains, hills, and forest. Most of the preserve was uninhabited, of course. Dragons required rather large territories to keep from starting fights with each other even, which meant the Romanian preserve was home to about a dozen dragons, only three of whom were nesting females.

Near the center of the preserve, well away from any muggle populations, were the hunting grounds, where cattle, deer, and other large prey animals were penned and tended by the keepers. This was also where the keepers' living quarters were, as well as medical facilities for both man and beast.

Harry had known all this, of course, but knowing the facts did not really convey the reality. The fact was, the dragon reserve was smack in the middle of some of the most wild, rugged ... and flat-out gorgeous terrain Harry had ever seen. He stared around in awe for a few moments, getting a good look at the layout of the area.

They'd landed in the central settlement, which qualified as a small village, with almost five hundred people in it. All the residents worked with dragons in one capacity or another, except for the Healers that dealt with humans. The buildings were all sturdy stone, with few (and small) windows to help protect against possible flaming. Even the fence for the herd of food animals was stone. The main street was unusually wide, probably to allow for the passage of a dragon, as the dragon infirmary was on one end of the street and the feeding grounds on the other. Harry wondered at the reason for that for a moment, before he realized that the herds would never get any rest if a dragon was hanging about right outside their pastures all the time.

"Ok, I can see what Charlie likes about living out here." Harry finally said. "It's gorgeous."

"Agreed." Sirius said.

Just then Charlie walked out of the nearest building, waving one hand above his head. "Hallo. Right on time. You make it ok, Harry? I think this is your first time on an international, isn't it?" He asked as he closed the distance between them.

"Yeah it was. It wasn't fun, but I'm fine now." Harry said, grinning and ducking when Charlie tried to ruffle his hair when he got in range. "Hey, quit that! My hair's snarled enough. Why does everyone try to snarl it up worse?" He mock-whined.

"Because it's sort of irresistible." Sirius said. "So you're just going to have to live with it."

Charlie laughed, then shook hands with Sirius before nodding to Hedwig. "Hello, Hedwig. You having any luck keeping this lot in line?"

"Oh, you're one to talk." Sirius said, while Hedwig crackled in amusement. "How much trouble do you get into on a daily basis, again?"

"None." Charlie said, while trying to look innocent, which wasn't working.

"Exactly." Sirius said with a snort.

"Anyway, let's get you two settled. There's a few rooms free in the building next to mine, so you'll be plenty close."

Their rooms proved to be pretty nice, which made sense since the dragon handlers lived here full time. Expecting them to live in dinky little rooms wasn't a bright idea. It was nowhere near the size of his room at the castle, but Harry hadn't been expecting anything anywhere near that grand. Once their rucksacks had been deposited and their things unpacked (the reserve had no house elves), they joined the handlers, healers, and herders for breakfast in the communal kitchen across the street.

Harry was surprised to note that the handlers seemed to all have fairly similar personalities and temperaments ... which reminded him of Hagrid, just a bit, in that they were a bit on the loud and boisterous side, even if none of them could ever match him in sheer size.

The air in the kitchen was electric, and pretty much everyone was visibly excited. It turned out that the reason for that was that the various plans for saddles for the dragons had finally been completed and delivered. And after Charlie's impromptu flight a few days before, the possibility of a controlled flight had increased almost exponentially, though from the good natured arguments, there was nothing like a consensus on how to accomplish such a thing, or how long it would take. Harry saw more than a few handfuls of coins changing hands as various people bet on the outcome.

"Seren's the favorite for a first controlled flight, of course." Charlie said, when he'd looked where Harry was and seen the betting going on. "He's consistently been the first to do something since we started this, at least of the adult dragons. We're not sure if it's because he's the youngest of the chosen dragons, the fact he's a Welsh Green, or both."

"Why would him being a Welsh Green matter?" Harry wanted to know.

"Welsh Greens are one of the calmer breeds." Charlie said.

**Well, that definitely makes sense then** Harry mused. "Can we meet him?"

"We can try, but you might have to settle for seeing him from a distance. He may be doing things first, but he also happens to be one of the dragons that's rather picky about who gets to approach him. Every time someone other than his team even thinks about it, he throws a fit. There are several that aren't picky, though, so you'll definitely get a chance to get up close."

"Do you really think I might be able to talk to them?" Harry asked.

Charlie shrugged. "Honestly? Not really. But it can't possibly hurt. And I could be wrong. They're definitely smarter than we ever gave them credit for, before this, with how fast they've been picking things up.

Charlie gave them a quick tour of the settlement, then Apparated them both (one by one) to a spot closer to Seren's sleeping spot.

"You'd be walking for days if you tried to hike it." Charlie told them. "But apparating real close to the dragons was never a good idea before, hence landing a bit away from known resting spots. We haven't changed that yet, since we're not sure how the dragons would take us popping in and out."

Charlie led the way towards Seren's spot, and motioned for them to stay out of sight around the curve of the hill while he went on to go greet Seren and, maybe, manage to get Seren to tolerate their presence long enough for a good look at him.

HPHPHP

Seren thrummed happily when he spotted Charlie. The thrum was less noise and more vibration, carrying through the rock of Seren's sleeping spot and rattling Charlie's bones.

"Hey, big guy. Happy to see you too." Charlie greeted, rubbing Seren's nose as soon as he got in range. Only then did he turn to Calvin, who'd had the night watch with Seren. "Anything come up last night?"

Calvin shook his head. "Naw. At least, not anything new. He did let me use him for a pillow."

Charlie grinned. Since the watches were not about safeguarding the dragons in question, there really wasn't a problem with them falling asleep, at least not now. They'd all ended up snoozing against Seren's side at least once by now, most of them multiple times.

"Well, I've got some friends of mine here who really want to meet him, so we're going to try. Dunno if it's going to work, since Seren's not the biggest fan of visitors." Charlie said. "I'll be right back."

HPHPHP

Charlie headed back to the curve, grinning when Seren let out a distinctly disappointed sounding noise. "All right, let's try this. You'll be safe, he hasn't once tried to flame anyone. He just yells a lot." And even if Seren had been inclined to flame, Charlie being with Harry and Sirius would have helped safeguard them.

The three of them walked around the curve and stopped as soon as Seren was in sight. Seren was staring straight at them when they came around the curve. Charlie figured he'd been able to smell Harry and Sirius even if he hadn't been able to see them.

Seren growled and grumbled and shifted around, clearly displeased at the presence of strangers. "Yeah, ok, that's a no. You guys better head back out of sight." Charlie said. Once they'd disappeared, he walked back over to Seren. "Sorry, big guy. They just wanted to meet you, 'cause I've been bragging about you pretty much nonstop." He said, petting Seren's nose and cheek.

Seren huffed after a few moments and finally relaxed enough to thrum at Charlie again. Charlie grinned. "Right, that's me forgiven. I'll see you later today, ok big guy? I don't have shift until after dinner." He gave Seren one last pat and headed back towards where Harry and Sirius were waiting for him.

HPHPHP

Charlie took them to meet another Welsh Green, this one being one of the ones that wasn't picky about who came around to see him.

"This is Wilbur. Don't ask." He said, seeing their amused faces at the name. "It'll ruin your image of dragons forever."

"If you say so." Sirius said.

Both Sirius and Harry were entranced at being able to actually touch a dragon, and have it not only tolerate their touch but lean into it and encourage it. Harry only managed to drag himself away from Wilbur when his stomach started snarling.

They apparated back to the settlement, both Sirius and Harry grinning like fiends. "I begin to see why you've been so ... enthusiastic about this." Sirius said. "That was ... incredible. To put it mildly."

"Agreed." Harry said. //It's safe, Hedwig. You can come join us now!//

Hedwig soon flew in, drawing the attention of a few of the settlement residents.

"Gorgeous owl, kid." One of them called.

"Familiar, actually." Harry said, grinning widely as Hedwig fluffed and preened at the praise. "Her name's Hedwig."

"Familiar? Really? You're young for it. Hasn't been someone your age with a familiar in a long time." The speaker said, coming over to greet Hedwig properly. "Hullo there, Hedwig."

Hedwig cackled at him in greeting, then preened Harry's hair. //Tell him hello, and thank you for the compliment.//

Harry snickered a bit. "She says hello back, and thank you for the compliment."

The man grinned. "You're welcome." He said, and then headed back to his table and his lunch.

Lunch passed swiftly enough, and then Harry headed back out, heading for the feeding grounds, where he would have a chance of seeing some of the other dragons in the reserve as they came in to feed. Charlie and Sirius joined him after a bit, and the three of them talked for a while.

Then, very quietly, Charlie said. "Stay very still."

Harry turned to look at him, wondering at Charlie's wary tone, when a massive shadow swept over them, followed a few moments later by a positively enormous metallic gray dragon. A Romanian Longhorn that had been feeding at one edge of the big pasture abruptly dropped the carcass it had been munching on and took wing, heading away as fast as it could move as the big gray dragon circled slowly, clearly choosing a target.

The gray dragon swooped low enough that Harry swore the tall grass was tickling its belly, and snapped up a cow ... then bowled over a second one that wasn't fast enough to get away as it landed ... hard enough to make the ground shake. Now that it was on the ground, Harry could see a number of scars across the dragon's face, wings and tail.

"What ... " He almost whispered.

"That's the General." Charlie said, keeping his voice quiet. "Ukranian Ironbelly. He's pretty much a legend. Confirmed to be at least five hundred years old. At least, that's as far back as records of him go. We're fairly sure he's a good deal older than that, because he had all those scars back then. Must have been one hell of a fight ... probably with another Ironbelly, since not much else can hurt that breed, even now, nevermind five hundred years ago. He's pretty much the acknowledged lord and master of the entire continent. Every other dragon gets the hell out of his way when he shows up. And so do we. No one's inclined to piss off something that big and that old."

"I can't say I blame you." Sirius said softly. "He's big enough to eat a human in one bite and then go looking for something more substantial to snack on."

"Exactly." Charlie said. "He's been making everyone nervous, though, because he's been hanging around quite a bit since the attempt to work with dragons started. He and a few other older dragons that come and go as they please because we really don't have any means to stop them."

Having finished his meal, the General turned, clearly preparing to fly out of the pasture. But he turned in such a way that he looked straight at the trio of humans watching him. They all froze, though Sirius managed to tangle one hand in Harry's shirt, fully planning to apparate the hell out of there if the dragon showed any sign of taking umbrage at their presence.

[[So curious]]

It took Harry a few moments to understand the words. It was like the General was speaking a little-used dialect ... with a heavy accent, just to make the words more difficult to understand. But Harry did manage to understand it, after a moment. His eyes went big.

[[You can speak!]] He said.

The General literally reared back in surprise, massive wings sweeping forward to help him keep his balance before he dropped forward again, bracing his front half on the joints of his wings like a bat would, as he didn't have front legs like most of the other breeds of dragon.

[[You speak! Long time since .... spoke!]]

Harry missed one of the words, which he presumed was 'human' or the equivalent.

"Haaaaaaaaarry." Sirius hissed, fighting the urge to apparate.

"'sok, Sirius. He can talk. It's ... kind of garbled. Like trying to understand someone who's speaking with a heck of an accent."

[[Why do ... change how they treat us?]] The General asked.

Oh boy. Now that was a loaded question. [[We want to be friends.]] He said. [[Easier. Less death for all]] He opted for keeping it simple, since he wasn't sure how much of what he was saying the General understood, given he was having problems understanding the General.

[[What friends?]]

Whoops. How to explain that concept to an animal? Damn, this was going to be tricky. [[Not enemies. Work together for good of all]] Harry finally settled on. It was the best he could come up with on the spur of the moment.

The General padded closer, which made Sirius start to back up and drag Harry with him, before he caught himself and forced himself to stay still.

[[Afraid of us]]

[[You're big.]] Harry pointed out. [[And not known.]] Not to mention dangerous as hell, but Harry decided not to say that.

The General seemed to accept that, and then seemed to lose interest in them, turning and padding away again before launching himself back into the sky.

"Holy shit." Charlie whimpered. "I think I need new pants. What was that all about, Harry?"

"He just wanted to know why things had changed. I tried to get it across that we wanted to play nice with the dragons. Not sure how much of it got through. He was really hard to understand."

"Considering I didn't think you'd be able to talk to any of them at all? I'll take 'hard to understand'. I just wish it had been a less intimidating dragon you could talk to." Charlie said.

July 18, 1992 Potter Castle

Severus had decided to take full advantage of Black's absence from the castle. To say their relationship had not improved was an understatement. They continued to exist in a rather shaky state of suspicious, wary truce. As such, Severus avoided Black whenever humanly possible, which made some of the experimenting he wanted (and now needed) to do a bit tricky.

Severus and the twins had been working since the start of summer, of course, on various things. The twins were making remarkable progress, and even seemed to be steadying somewhat under Severus' guidance. They'd neither of them cease to be pranksters anytime soon, but were slowly beginning to lose the wild, uncontrolled edge they'd had their entire lives.

Since the chat with the Queen, and the resultant conferences and meetings and questions, Severus, Filius, Remus and the twins had taken on the challenge of figuring out a viable way of protecting the muggle constabulary and military forces that would be responding to Death Eater attacks from as many spells and potions as possible.

It had involved a lot of research thus far, with the high likelihood of more to come, and a lot of experimenting with possible potions and spells. Severus had been having the time of his life, really. He'd done more than a bit of spell creating back during his school days, and dusting off those skills and using them again had been rather fun, not to mention the experimenting with potions.

Thus far they had a dozen possible solutions, all of them things that were applied to clothing, as some sort of armor had been the best method of protection under the circumstances, as the armor could be spelled and then used repeatedly, compared to having to apply spells or potions to a person directly multiple times.

Still, at this early stage they had no idea if any of the combinations would work, so Severus had decided to spend the day in the dueling chamber on the second floor with Remus, Filius, and the twins, to see which, if any, of the prepared shirts they'd done up for a first try held up.

Filius came through just after breakfast, bouncing merrily on the balls of his feet, clearly looking forward to this as much as Severus was.

"Filius." Severus greeted.

"Severus. Looking forward to the trials?"

"As much as you are, I believe." Severus admitted. 

He'd slowly begun to unwind a bit around Minerva and Filius, thanks to their alliance against Dumbledore this last year. Hell, for that matter, he'd unwound a bit period. He supposed that was the result of finally having a life outside of spying, and, now, of finally being completely free of both the bastards that had controlled his life for so long. With both of them completely unaware of his freedom. It was the sort of thing that warmed his Slytherin heart.

That he now was free and clear to bring both men to their knees was something he had long since given up all hope of. He fully intended to make very sure Voldemort at least learned the depths of his wrath. This task was but a small part of that.

Filius smiled at him and they headed up to the dueling chamber, where the twins and Remus had already adjourned, bringing the box of shirts to be tested with them.

It was but the work of moments to get the first shirt onto one of the practice dummies that stood at one end of the dueling room, then everyone backed up, and, as a precaution, shielded themselves. After all, they weren't sure what would happen with their various attempts at magical protection. They all looked good, to various degrees, on parchment, but that was no guarantee of a smooth, successful test in real life.

The three teachers spent the next half hour throwing a specific chain of spells, each more dangerous than the last, at each shirt until the shirts failed and the dummies took damage. Two of the shirts failed with the second or third spell, meaning those attempts would be discarded entirely. The rest managed to hang on through at least five spells. One shirt managed to last for seven, making it the winner of the first attempts.

"It's still not strong enough to hold up against the sorts of spells Death Eaters use." Filius said, staring at the now-damaged winning shirt. "But it's definitely a start. I just wish it was possible to include dragon or basilisk hide in the design, as that would solve about half our problems."

"More like three quarters." Remus agreed. "But there's not enough dragon hide on the planet to outfit everyone that'd need it, and there's no way anyone's going to slaughter a living dragon to get more. Not now."

"Nor should they." Filius agreed. "I'm incredibly glad that raising dragons for slaughter stopped so long ago."

"As is everyone that knows they're that smart, now." Remus agreed. "So, any ideas for strengthening this particular combination?" He asked.

Severus considered it for a few moments. "Actually, I may have a viable possibility. Dragon and basilisk hide may be beyond our grasp, but shed basilisk skin is only marginally less effective than the hide attached to the living beast."

Filius and Remus followed that thought to its obvious conclusion. "And through Harry, we happen to have access to a basilisk that's been alive for a thousand years. The sheer amount of shed skin that thing has to have produced by now boggles the mind." Filius said. "Maybe enough to do at least partial armor. Chest and back, at least, for either everyone or nearly everyone."

"That sounds like it may be a plan." Severus said with a nod. "In the meantime, we should continue working on an effective block for the rest of the armor, and to reinforce the basilisk sections, since they will be shed skin, and thus not as impervious to harm as hide."


	10. General Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the quiet, folks ... this is the last quiet chapter before the excrement REALLY hits the air recirculation device.

General Eyes

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

//Telepathy//  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 18, 1992 Romania

Curled on a patch of rock above and to the north of the dragon reserve's main settlement, the Ukrainian Ironbelly known as the General watched the activity below.

The General was not, as the various wranglers believed, male. She was female. Dragons, like birds, were egg-layers. That meant that the females tended to be larger than the males. Even if she had been aware of their error, she would have forgiven them. It wasn't like any of them were going to walk up to her and examine her to ascertain her sex, after all.

The General was one of the oldest of a notoriously long-lived species, a very unique long-lived species. Long ago, in a time before humans first walked the world, there was a great serpent. This creature was the common ancestor of snakes and several other reptilian species, including dragons. The first dragons only had back legs and wings. Eventually, there was an evolutionary shift, and dragons with four legs and wings - among other changes - appeared. Over time, the four-legged dragons overwhelmed their more primitive predecessors and wiped them out; except for the Ironbelly. With its incredibly tough, fire-resistant hide and enormous size, the Ironbelly managed to survive where its fellows could not. The fact that the Ironbelly exhibited behavior not seen in the modern dragon breeds assisted its continued survival as well.

In general, the modern dragons managed to coexist fairly peacefully, and did not engage in attacks on each other, or hunt each other. The same could not be said for Ironbellies. Ironbellies bullied the smaller dragons from their territories and off their kills. They also actively hunted for nests, destroying what eggs they could find. Similarly, very young dragons were also frequent prey for adult Ironbellies.

Nor did they spare themselves. Ironbellies were rare. There were perhaps a hundred or so Ironbellies worldwide at any given time. There was a reason for this. Unlike with most of the other dragon breeds, only the strongest of the Ironbellies bred.

Modern dragons laid perhaps a dozen eggs at most and, baring disaster, all eggs laid eventually became breeding adults. Ironbellies, on the other hand, laid up to forty eggs and were lucky to have two survivors live long enough to breed. From the moment of hatching, dragonets were at war with their siblings, competing ruthlessly. As a result, less than half the number of hatchlings survived to escape the nest.

The slaughter did not end there either. Ironbellies, unlike the other dragons, sloughed their skins at intervals as they grew, as their incredibly tough scales did not permit for growth past a certain point. Their rate of growth was thus slow compared to other dragons. They grew to roughly twenty feet in length in their first year. After that, they took centuries to reach full size.

During this period, males and females alike were in constant danger of death. They had to avoid each other, first and foremost, as they competed viciously for food. The older, fully grown Ironbellies did not tolerate the youngsters' existence, and would kill any they could. The largest of the modern dragon breeds could successfully kill a very young Ironbelly in a fight. They also had to avoid humans for most of history, as humans both magical and non-magical had hunted dragons for millennia. 

When they reached roughly three or four hundred years of age and had grown to full size, things did not improve all that much. This is due to the fact that while they were large enough to be immune to attacks from humans and other dragon breeds, they were still vulnerable to their own kind. They also, at this stage, began the long, bloody process of establishing themselves as breeding adults.

That meant a lot of fighting. Females had to defeat and usually killing an elder breeding female, then take over her territory. They then had to defend that territory against other competitors. The males had to fight amongst themselves to establish territories and pecking order. Once that was established, they had to fight with the females to earn the right to sire their next clutch.

The trade-off for the life of brutality was that, for several hundred years, fully grown Ironbellies were the masters of all they surveyed. In their prime, they had nothing to fear but a small handful of their own kind that were close enough in age, size, and prowess to be a threat. Additionally, with such long lives, they eventually become the next best thing to sapient, though no wizard had ever figured that out.

The General had encountered a parselmouth before, roughly seven hundred years ago. She'd been very young at the time and was hiding in the Himalayas from the various threats a young Ironbelly faced. A wizard had stumbled across her small cave and managed to talk his way out of getting barbecued and eaten. She'd left the area for a safer hideaway as soon as the man left and had never encountered another parselmouth again, until today.

She, like several other old dragons, had been watching the abrupt shift in human behavior over the last half a year or so. While she was long past the age where humans were a threat to her, she still kept an eye on them just in case.

According to the human, the change was because they were trying to work together with the dragons. For the General, this was a completely foreign concept. Still, it seemed to be benefiting the lesser dragons, so she continued to watch. Since the humans kept prey in groups out in the open, it was hardly a hardship for her. All she had to do was refrain from hunting the smaller dragons and their nests and her presence would be tolerated.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

//Harry. I had a thought.// Hedwig said just before dusk that evening.

//Oh?// Harry asked.

//Remember me telling you it was possible to see through my eyes?//

//No, actually.// Harry admitted. So much had happened since he'd met Hedwig that he could barely remember those first few weeks now, or so it seemed. //I can do that?//

//Yes.// Hedwig told him. //This would be a perfect time to try it.//

//Ok.// Harry said. //Any idea how to do it?//

//Not precisely.// Hedwig admitted. //I just know it can be done.//

Harry frowned slightly as he got comfortable next to Sirius. The two of them had just returned to their room from dinner. "Sirius, I'm going to be trying something with Hedwig, so I'm *not* asleep, even if my eyes are closed, ok?"

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. "Ok, kiddo." He said.

Harry closed his eyes and felt along his bond with Hedwig. For several long moments, nothing seemed to happen. Then, suddenly, he was ... well, not seeing through Hedwig's eyes that was for sure. But ... hearing her thoughts and emotions? That fit better. Normally, Harry only got thoughts and feelings Hedwig projected his way, and he assumed it was the same for her. Right now, though, he was getting a lot more than that. While he wasn't perceiving anything through her senses, he was 'hearing' her catalogue everything she saw, heard, and smelled. Layered over that was a whole raft of thoughts about him, all of them laced with a myriad of emotions. Layered over *that* was an ever-changing litany of thoughts on other subjects, also laced with emotions. Everything was going by so fast that Harry could barely get a sense of what any one thing might be before it flickered out of 'sight' and he lost it in the background noise.

To say it was confusing and overwhelming was to understate the case. Harry more or less fell out of Hedwig's mind, unable to maintain the concentration necessary to hold that level of contact under the barrage he was being subjected to. He blinked his eyes open.

"Whoa. That was something else." He muttered.

Sirius, who'd apparently been watching him out of the corner of his eye, immediately spoke up. "What was?" He wanted to know.

"I was trying to see through Hedwig's eyes." Harry told him. "Didn't manage it, but I *did* get deeper into her mind, and could hear everything she was thinking and feeling, rather than just what she projected at me."

Sirius gave a low whistle. "Yeah, that would be a bit much." He agreed. "You all right?"

Harry thought about it for a second. "Seem to be." He said. "I've got a bit of a headache but nothing more than that." He reached out for Hedwig. //You ok, Hedwig?//

//Yes, Harry-chick.// She said.

//Were you hearing me the way I was hearing you just now?//

//I believe so.// Hedwig said. 

The fact she sounded a touch overwhelmed herself made Harry think that she had gotten the same sort of thing from him as he did from her during the exchange. //That is going to take some getting used to.// Harry told her. //And a lot of practice.//

//Agreed.// Hedwig said, sounding amused.

"Hedwig's ok too." Harry said aloud. "But this is going to take some practice."

"Sounds like it." Sirius agreed.

July 18, 1992 Potter Castle

The last week and a half had been ... interesting ... for Draco Malfoy. He had been permitted to move into the Castle with his house elf (who was very restricted in her movements inside the castle) the day after his talk with Harry. He had also been sworn to and Unbreakable Vow to never communicate in any way to anyone anything he found out while in the Castle, without Sirius or Harry's permission. This, on top of his oath to never willingly or knowingly help Voldemort or his followers in any way.

Those oaths given, Draco had moved in. The things he discovered in the meantime had his Slytherin heart all a-flutter. He didn't even mind that he could never tell anyone. After all, knowledge was power, and telling people what you knew diluted your power.

Harry's status as the heir of Gryffindor was apparently something of an open secret to those who lived in the castle. The various visitors didn't seem to know it, or if they did it didn't come up. Draco had very nearly had a heart attack when he found that out.

More interesting, at least to him, was the sometimes nearly visible tension between his Head of House and Black and Lupin. Draco had no idea as to the cause, but he kept a sharp eye out. The way Snape and Black in particular acted, things had a good chance of eventually devolving to violence at some point.

Draco had been horrified when he found out that Lupin was a werewolf. The tales his father and grandfather had told him did not paint werewolves in a positive light. Draco had promptly made himself scarce whenever Lupin was about, but was watching from a distance. So far, Lupin seemed safe enough, though. The full moon had been earlier this week, and Lupin had disappeared for the day before and the day after, and Draco had heard nothing. From comments Draco'd heard, Snape was evidently making Wolfsbane for Lupin, so that was a definite comfort.

The Weasley herd had been surprisingly tolerable. The twins hadn't even pranked him ... yet. Draco was not fool enough to think that state of affairs would last, given their reputations. Even Snape did not seem able to fully curb their deplorable behavior.

More interesting by far was the fact that everyone in the castle was openly preparing for all-out war. Snape and the twins were often in the dungeon potions lab for the vast majority of the day. Lupin spent what free time he had after dealing with his duties as the Black and Potter families' majordomo doing research. The teachers and various others who came in and out daily were as busy, either teaching the various students in the castle or assisting with research. To Draco's surprise, he had swiftly been included in the extra lessons.

"I have no doubt that your family saw to your education prior to attending Hogwarts." Sirius had told him. "But there are bound to be gaps in your education, given their leanings, and even if there aren't, pushing yourself as far as you are capable is only wise, given what will be coming."

Draco had not disagreed in the least, and had attended the lessons willingly. He'd been surprised to find that he was quite behind the Gryffindor Gaggle, as he'd taken to calling it. He knew more Dark curses than they did, but they beat him out, by far, in every other category of spells. It became very clear very quickly that they'd been hiding their true abilities from the general public's knowledge. Which was a very good idea, if surprisingly Slytherin for a bunch of Gryffindors.

He missed his parents, and worried about them constantly. Nippy had been able to sneak into the mansion a few times and check on them, then reassure Draco as to their continued well-being, but it wasn't anywhere near the same.

Frankly, Draco found the air of 'waiting' to be horribly oppressive. The Death Eaters had gone ominously silent. Lucius had warned them that Voldemort had held back Barty to discuss the target for Voldemort's resurrection, and the assignments the others had been given. Black had, wisely, promptly informed Amelia Bones of the impending attack on Azkaban. Other than that, there was nothing they could do. It was driving Draco a bit bonkers, really.

He'd finally resorted to writing his Housemates and beginning the long, tricky process of ascertaining where their loyalties truly lay. He was fairly sure of a few of them. Flint, for instance, was a lost cause. He was a rabidly vocal Voldemort supporter who actively looked forward to being Marked as soon as he graduated. Crabbe and Goyle were likewise, if not vocal (they neither of them spoke much on any subject) then definitely loyal to Voldemort. On the other side of the fence were Greengrass, Davis, and Bulstrode. Zabini was a confirmed fence-sitter, along with at least four others that Draco knew of. Everyone else, Draco had no idea.

Various Places, July 3-18, 1992

Dobby had been a very busy house elf. He had not ceased to watch Barty after Draco was rescued from the Vindico spell. He reported religiously every evening, usually to Harry, who then told the adults. Not that there had been overmuch to tell. Dobby had, unfortunately, not heard who Barty was to target, as he did not want to risk being that close to Voldemort. He had no idea if Voldemort would be able to sense him or not, and didn't want to find out the hard way.

During the night, though, when Barty was asleep and after he'd given his daily report, Dobby worked on a mission he'd given himself. He'd heard about the Hogwarts house elves (and a few others) being asked to safeguard the Muggleborn students-to-be.

He thought it was a good idea, but he also thought they could go one step further. So Dobby had been going from home to home, talking to the elves of families that were not Voldemort supporters. At each home, he left the same message.

"Yous families is important. They must be kept safe. If they's not telling you you can't protect them, yous be doing exactly that, if bad mens come. Yous protect yous family!"

Given that the anti-Voldemort families that had house-elves treated them well, the house-elves in question took to the message with understandable zeal and fervor, and even spread the word. Dobby had also talked to the Hogwarts elves, hoping to get them to come to the aid of their fellows if there was a battle. The vast majority of them agreed with remarkable alacrity. Possibly because they'd spent their lives serving and protecting children and the children of children they'd served and protected in the past.

Several groups of house elves had gotten together in the last two weeks. The eldest had passed on offensive and defensive techniques that the youngsters hadn't had time or opportunity to learn. There'd been a lot of practicing, as well, in the dead of night when their families didn't need them. Hogwarts, as the largest place available, became the staging area for the house-elves' activities.

More remarkably, they had begun to shun the elves owned by Voldemort supporters. It was not an effort to punish the elves, as they had no choice in the matter, but to prevent the spread of damaging information to them, information that they could potentially be forced to reveal to their masters. When the time came, the elves would be as ready as their masters.

July 19, 1992 Romania

Harry, Sirius, Remus and Charlie spent the bulk of the morning exploring the reserve. Charlie showed them around, showing off the reserve's breeding pair of Hungarian Horntails. The reserve also boasted a breeding pair of Welsh Greens (the parents of Wilbur and Seren) and Swedish Short Snouts. According to Charlie, they were currently in talks with a Chinese reserve to trade a breeding pair of Chinese Fireballs in exchange for some of this season's clutches from the three existing pairs.

The reserves frequently traded breeding pairs and juvenile dragons in such a manner. It served to ensure that if disaster struck, the entire breeding population of any one breed of dragon would not be wiped out. It also helped prevent inbreeding by getting the offspring of breeding pairs separated and spread out over the globe. Of course that hadn't stopped there being a good bit of wrangling over which breeding pairs and how many juvenile dragons. Especially now, now that everyone was realizing just how intelligent the dragons were, and were developing actual relationships with them. That would, in the future, complicate transfers, as the teams that worked with the dragons would want and need to stay with their dragon. That, thankfully, wasn't going to be a factor with this exchange.

They'd stopped by the feeding pen after lunch. The Romanian Longhorn that had been chased off its meal the day before by the General was back, along with a Hebridean Black. Harry, reminded of the General, took the opportunity to ask Charlie about Ukranian Ironbellies.

"Not much is known about them." Charlie admitted. "You almost never see them. Big 'uns like the General seem to rule the roost as it were, but other than that, we really don't know much about them, except for the fact they're built differently than other dragons."

"I wonder if that's why I could talk to the General, but not any of the others." Because Harry had tried with every dragon he'd been able to meet, to no avail. "Maybe they're more closely related to snakes, or something."

Charlie shrugged helplessly. "Your guess is as good as mine there, kiddo." He admitted.

Shortly after that, the two dragons moved off. The three of them began thinking about heading back over to hang out with Wilbur, who was quite the attention hog. Before they got too deep into the discussion, the same massive shadow as the day before swept over them.

"Oh boy, he's back." Charlie said, tilting his head to watch the General swoop in to land in the feeding pen.

Curiously, he ignored the prey animals now bolting for the hills away from him. His full attention seemed to be on the three of them.

"Eeep. I think I started something yesterday." Harry said before taking a deep breath.

[[Hello again]] He greeted. Then, curiously. [[What is your name?]] Because while they couldn't talk to the other dragons to see if they had names for themselves, it seemed sort of rude to assume the dragon he *could* talk to didn't have a name for himself.

[[Speaker]] The General greeted. [[I am Hasisah.]]

Fortunately for Harry, those few brief words were fairly clear, if still accented.

[[I am Harry.]] Harry told Hasisah. [[Why come back?]]

[[Curious. Odd animals. Hunt, hurt. Then not. Must watch]]

Harry mentally grimaced. He was fairly sure he'd missed more than a few words in there, too garbled by the differences between regular parselmouth and what Hasisah was speaking for him to make sense of. Still, he got the general gist of the message. Hasisah was still curious about the humans and their new behavior regarding dragons, and now Harry and his ability to speak to him.

[[Harry here now?]] Hasisah asked.

It took a minute for Harry to figure out what Hasisah meant by that one. [[No. I live west. On island.]] He didn't even bother trying to name the UK, since he was very, very sure that regardless of Hasisah's intelligence level, he wasn't going to know (or care about) things like nations and their names.

Hasisah actually lifted his head and looked to the west, as if he could see the island in question. [[Why out territory?]]

[[We visit each other]] Harry explained.

That seemed to completely confound Hasisah, if the grumbling snort and double blink were anything to go by. [[So strange]] Hasisah said, then turned away and flew off again.

"Harry?" Sirius asked, his voice a little strangled.

"His name is Hasisah." Harry said. "And I don't think he quite grasps the concept of working together as a group, or anything like that."

Charlie frowned a little as he watched the General ... err, Hasisah, fly off. "Well, it sort of makes sense. No one has ever seen two or more Ironbellies hanging out together peacefully. A ton and a half of fights when two of them meet, but not so much with getting along." Then he grinned. "And hey, at least we have a real name for him now." Charlie grinned. "General Hasisah. Has a nice ring to it."

Harry and Sirius both laughed at Charlie's whimsy.

"Well, shall we head back over to Wilbur's?" Charlie asked.

They both agreed to that, and headed over.

July 19, 1992 Potter Castle

Sirius and Harry returned late in the evening, UK time. The castle was surprisingly quiet.

"Where the heck is everyone?" Harry asked Sirius as they headed for the third floor.

"Remus is likely in the office." Sirius said. "Snape and the twins in the potions lab, as usual. Not sure if anyone else is here."

Remus did indeed emerge from the direction of the office as they passed the second floor. "Hey you two." He greeted. "Have fun in Romania?"

"Loads." Harry said with a huge grin. "Got to pet several dragons, one of them several times. And got within about ... what, Sirius, thirty or forty feet or so?" Harry turned to look at Sirius.

Sirius, knowing what he was talking about, considered it, then nodded. "Sounds about right." He agreed.

"We got within thirty or forty feet of a Ukranian Ironbelly."

Remus' eyes went wide. "And you're still alive? That's quite a feat. They're notorious."

"Yeah, no kidding. This one, the handlers had named the General." Harry said, flinging both hands wide apart. "Huge. Sixty feet at least, maybe more. Looked like it'd been through the wars, too. Had scars all over its face and stuff."

Remus blinked. "I've heard of that particular Ironbelly. Seems to have claimed most of Europe as its territory and hunting grounds."

"Yeah. That's the one. And it could talk to me." Harry said, finally dropping the real bombshell.

"Really!" Remus looked ... almost as excited as Charlie had been. "What'd he have to say?"

"Not all that much. I did find out his name, though. Hasisah. And he really didn't seem to understand working together and stuff. He was also really hard to understand. It was like he spoke a really heavily accented dialect, or something."

Remus nodded. "That would have complicated things quite a bit." He agreed. "So what about the other dragons? What did they have to say?"

"Couldn't talk to them." Harry admitted. "And after I managed it with General Hasisah, trust me, I tried. If they were talking, I couldn't understand them at all." He sighed in disappointment.

"Still, Harry, even being able to talk to only one dragon is a heck of an accomplishment. If it's the same for the entire species, that's going to be remarkable." Remus said.

Harry grinned. "Yeah. And you should have heard the betting ... and arguing ... going on over flying with the dragons. Who'd manage a controlled flight first, how and when, all that sort of thing. Got really heated more than once, though it wasn't ever mean."

Remus laughed. "I imagine it would." He said. "Sadly, things have not been half so exciting here as they apparently were in Romania." He glanced at Sirius. "They've completed the first tests for the anti-magic armor for muggles, Sirius. They had one good success and a couple of milder ones."

"Already? I wasn't expecting the first batch to produce anything viable." Sirius said.

Remus shrugged. "We've got some of the current best minds bent to the problem, so I guess that helped. They're still not enough to handle the heavier curses, but the low to mid range is fine."

Sirius snorted. "That's a lot better than what I was expecting, though. Can we get the armor up to dealing with the heavier Dark Arts curses?"

"I think so." Remus said. "Not up to the Unforgivables, of course, but the others, yes. Oh, that reminds me. Severus mentioned the armor would be more ideal if we could get hold of dragon or basilisk hide, but we all know the dragon hide isn't happening."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, not now that everyone realizes just how smart the dragons are." He agreed. Then he frowned slightly. "Wait. Basilisks are snakes, right? Are the shed skins any good?"

Remus smiled at Harry. "Yes they are, actually. Not quite as good as the hide currently on the basilisk, but certainly better than most other materials."

Harry grinned. "And Shass has been down in the Chamber, growing and shedding, for a *long* time. There's probably enough shed skin down there to kit out everyone in the UK."

Remus laughed. "I wouldn't go quite that far, but there's certain to be enough for our purposes."

"We're going to have to wait for Dumbledore to leave the school for a bit." Harry said. "There is no way I'm wandering around the castle mucking about with Shass while he's there."

"Probably wise." Sirius agreed. "We'll keep an eye on him. He does travel during the summers, so he'll leave at some point, and we can head in then."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Harry said.

The three of them headed upstairs to their rooms to call it a night.

July 19, 1992 Bones Manor

Amelia Bones, having chosen her side, was faced with a rather interesting challenge. She now knew that there was going to be an attack on Azkaban at the end of July or the first week of August. She now knew that someone (they only knew it wasn't going to be Harry) was going to be targeted for use in Voldemort's planned resurrection ritual. She now knew that there was going to be a resurrection ritual at all.

She just wished they knew Voldemort's true identity. Insofar as she knew, no one had ever discovered his real name. If they knew that, it would be a simple manner to track down dead relatives of that name and strip the graves of the males bare. It was crude and more than slightly disrespectful of the dead, but if Amelia had to choose between disrespect to the dead and a fully re-bodied Dark Lord, she'd take the former every time.

Worse, Amelia had to somehow prepare her forces without alerting and alarming Fudge, who would presume her actions were an attempt at a takeover on her part. The man was excessively paranoid about his position as Minister for Magic being taken from him.

She'd set Tonks up as the liaison between herself and Black. It was the easiest choice. Tonks was his cousin, so her hanging about Black would draw no real comment from anyone. Amelia may have chosen a side but she was well aware that she needed to at least appear to be neutral to the general public until things blew wide open. Then she'd be able to openly side with Black.

It helped that Moody had sided with Black as well. That barmy old codger was incredibly useful despite his paranoia. Since he was still on the books as an Auror, she'd put him in charge of whipping the Aurors back into shape. This was, sadly, a necessity since the budget for the DMLE and Auror corps had been slashed to nearly nothing in the years since Voldemort's defeat. Tonks had, in fact, been the last new hire the Aurors had been able to obtain. They were down to the bare minimum of Aurors needed to 'keep the peace'. Which would be nowhere near enough when things went crazy again.

Thankfully, Black's plans and training regimen for his people would close much of the resultant gap. With a good number of people ready, willing, and able to jump into fights and win them, even if they weren't Aurors, things would not be quite so dire. The muggles ... Amelia wasn't quite as sure if their involvement would prove to be a benefit or not. Not because she thought muggles inferior, but simply because she didn't know how effective Muggle weapons would be against magicals. They were, at least, trained and disciplined enough to not panic, which was a mark in their favor.

The good news was that Amelia's ignorance of muggles' ability to fight magicals would be cured the next weekend. Black had arranged for a meeting between some muggle forces and members of his Alliance, to allow everyone on both sides to know what they could expect from combat. Moody was, of course, gleefully anticipating the event.

Amelia sorted the last of her mail and scowled when she spotted a missive from Dumbledore. Despite knowing her house-elf's diligence, she still cast a number of detection charms on the scroll. She wouldn't put it past the man to have a way to get past house-elves. Thankfully, nothing came up. Probably because Dumbledore was smart enough to realize that messing with the head of the DMLE was ... not wise.

She unrolled the scroll and read it through. Halfway through, she had to laugh. Because Dumbledore was up to his usual tricks, trying to insinuate things without actually coming out and saying them. From the tone of the letter, he was trying to cast doubt on Sirius and his motives, and to question Sirius' allegiances. He was, after all, now the Head of House Black. Surely that indicated some ... questionable ... thought processes? Or such were Dumbledore's insinuations.

Worse, the man was trying to hint that some or all of Black's new allies had been coerced. Because surely Houses long aligned with the Light would not stoop to following a Dark-aligned House willingly. Amelia scowled at the letter and finally put it aside. She'd have to let Sirius know that Dumbledore had increased his efforts to undermine the Black/Potter Alliance.


	11. Being Remade

Being Remade

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. MAJOR character death in this chapter. You are warned.

//Telepathy//  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 2, 1992 Hogsmeade

Dumbledore had not been having his usual, relaxed summer. Things had continued to go awry at the school even when the place was all but empty save for himself, Filch, and Hagrid. The stairs and the gargoyle that guarded his office misbehaved all the time. His food and drink were wrong as often as not. The list went on and on. And that was just what was going wrong inside the castle. Dumbledore refused to contemplate everything that had gone wrong outside of it.

Just thinking about Black and his alliance, or the Queen showing up unscheduled, was enough to make Dumbledore steam at the ears. Knowing that the Queen had been seen leaving the Wizengamot with Black was enough to make him want to scream. Worse, no one seemed to be paying any heed to his carefully worded cautions. To put it bluntly, Dumbledore was well on his way to being ignored or worse, forgotten. He had no idea how to fix it, either.

Frustrated with life in general, Dumbledore had opted to go for a stroll in Hogsmeade. The weather was unusually fine this early August day and a walk might do his mood some good. It had worked, too. A little past noon and four stores later, and Dumbledore was in a much better mood. He was also completely unaware of being watched.

Barty had been lurking around Hogsmeade since he had been given his assignment. He'd managed to buy some polyjuice potion from Knockturn Alley, allowing him to walk in broad daylight with none the wiser. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had been distinctly absent. Barty had been considering which of his plans to use to lure the man out of Hogwarts when he showed up on his own.

Barty immediately ducked into a side alley and summoned Winky, forcing her to go to Voldemort with the news that they would be on-site within a half-hour. Barty then bided his time, waiting for Dumbledore to approach the side alley he'd ducked down. It would be a simple enough affair to grab the Headmaster. After all, Barty wasn't after a fight with him. Whether Dumbledore remained caught was entirely up to his fellow Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort.

Barty had chosen his polyjuiced form with a fast snatch-and-run in mind. The less intimidating he looked, the more likely the old coot would be to presume he was helpless and thus drop whatever guard he had. And what was more harmless than a little old lady nearly as old as Dumbledore himself?

Eventually, Dumbledore got close enough that Barty was able to close the remaining distance in a fast lunge, triggering the portkey in his pocket at the same time as he got a death-grip on Dumbledore's arm. They were both whisked away before Dumbledore could do more than squawk, the sound lost in the general hubbub of the town. Without even the sound of apparation to garner attention, the two men disappeared unremarked.

August 2, Little Hangleton

This day had been very carefully prepared for. While they no longer had Snape's services, several Death Eaters were competent potion makers. As such, a number of potions had been prepared. One of them was to be used on Dumbledore. It was the only viable way to keep Dumbledore under control until Lord Voldemort was fully reborn. At least, it was the only way if they didn't want to have every Death Eater attending Lord Voldemort's rebirth. Since they needed to commit most of their forces to the Azkaban raid, full attendance was extremely impractical. There had been something of a lottery to decide who got to attend other than Barty. Runcorn, Parkinson, and Bletchley had won the spots by dint of being the best available fighters aside from those assigned tasks elsewhere.

Barty had ensured every possible angle was covered. The second he and Dumbledore landed in the graveyard they would be using for the ritual, Barty forced himself and Dumbledore down into a barely-controlled fall: rolling himself underneath the startled, unprepared Headmaster. A split second later, four stunners slammed into Dumbledore's back and he collapsed into unconsciousness. Because he caught the edges of the blasts, so did Barty.

But it was a price he had been willing to pay. There really had been no other way he could think of to transport and then render Dumbledore helpless without a lot of bloodshed and pain. But he had drilled his small group of helpers relentlessly in what to do, so that helped.

Runcorn, the biggest and sturdiest of the three, immediately set to work untangling Barty from Dumbledore and then floated Barty well away from the man. Runcorn then summoned one of his own house elves and told it to inform the group waiting to attack Azkaban to begin their assault. Once Barty was clear, Parkinson spelled the potion into Dumbledore's stomach. It would keep him paralyzed even if he woke unexpectedly.

Then Parkinson and Bletchley stripped Dumbledore bare and spelled a plain brown robe onto him. Once that was done, Dumbledore's robes were searched carefully and everything removed from the pockets in a search for portkeys. The robe and small pile of items were then put under an anti-summoning hex and hidden behind a tall tombstone, out of Dumbledore's line of sight. Then the two men trussed Dumbledore up like a Christmas goose. They also applied a silencing spell to hobble Dumbledore's ability to use wandless magic. They then left him at the foot of one of the graves.

While Parkinson and Bletchley were busy with Dumbledore, Runcorn revived Barty and handed him the polyjuice antidote so that he could resume his actual appearance. Parkinson and Bletchley then headed to the nearby house. Parkinson carefully levitated the enormous cauldron with its partially-done potion. Bletchley carefully carried the infant-sized golem that Voldemort had temporarily transferred himself into, since a whole, living human body could not be put into the resurrection potion.

Barty, meanwhile, arranged the necessary fire and gathered two of the three needed ingredients: a legbone from a grave marked Tom Riddle, and the somewhat desiccated lobe of his own ear. He had cut it off three days ago and left it to drain the blood out of it. Great care had to be taken with the potion, after all. The three necessary ingredients could not be contaminated. In other words, the bone couldn't have flesh or blood attached to it, the flesh couldn't have bone or blood, and the blood couldn't have bone or flesh.

Parkinson put the cauldron on the fire and then stepped back next to Runcorn, with the cauldron between them and Dumbledore. Bletchley took his place on the opposite side of Runcorn, holding Voldemort's blanket-wrapped golem. Barty took his place in front of the cauldron, standing between it and Dumbledore, then revived Dumbledore. It was a bit of a risk, waking him, but Lord Voldemort had been insistent that the man be awake and aware for his resurrection. Barty had agreed. While Dumbledore was definitely an enemy, and taking blood from him while he was knocked out might be enough, the ritual called for 'forcibly taken'. Taking blood from someone unconscious lacked somewhat in 'forcibly'.

Dumbledore seemed calm enough when he woke. After a few moments, however, his situation dawned on him fully. The small group of Death Eaters had the immeasurable pleasure of seeing Albus Dumbledore visibly afraid. Barty could not contain his smile as he stepped forward.

"Welcome, Headmaster. You are to be congratulated. You have been chosen for a most glorious purpose and to witness the greatest event of the age." Barty proclaimed, and waved a hand at their gathering. "The rebirth of the greatest wizard to ever live, Lord Voldemort."

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to argue with that one, of course, but with the silencing spell on him, he couldn't. Barty smiled at him toothily, then turned to Bletchley. "It is time to begin."

Bletchley nodded seriously and then carefully unwrapped Voldemort's golem. He then placed it in the cauldron, careful to let no part of himself touch the liquid within as he did so.

Barty took over from there, checking the bone over one last time to make doubly sure it was devoid of any contaminant. Reassured, he nodded to the others and together they chanted the appropriate lines of the ritual as each of the first two ingredients were added.

Once that was done, Parkinson pulled a small vial of potion, a wickedly sharp knife from its sheath on his belt, and an empty vial out of his pockets. He then approached Dumbledore, nodding to Runcorn as he did so, who also approached. Parkinson spelled the potion, which was an antidote to the paralyzing potion, into Dumbledore's stomach. Only when Dumbledore started to twitch and tried to thrash a few moments later did they continue.

Between them, they then freed one of Dumbledore's arms. Runcorn held tight to the freed limb while Parkinson cut a deep gash in the fleshy underside of Dumbledore's forearm. He let it bleed freely for a moment before he brought the vial under the flow of blood until it was full. Runcorn re-secured Dumbledore's arm and then settled in beside him, wand tip pressed against the man's neck. Parkinson handed the full vial of blood to Barty and then stood on the other side of Dumbledore, his wand tip touching the man's side. Bletchley moved so that the cauldron was no longer between himself and Dumbledore and leveled his wand at the man as well.

As one, the four men chanted the final line of the ritual as Barty poured the blood in. He backed up a few steps as thick white vapor poured out of the cauldron, obscuring their view of what was happening. Barty had to restrain a cheer as the vapor began to thin, revealing the shadowy form of a man rising from the cauldron.

"Robe me." Came the command in a familiar voice. 

For once, it was neither filtered through another person's vocal equipment nor weakened by circumstance. This smooth baritone was pure Lord Voldemort. Barty, who had been burdened with appropriate attire for their Lord, stepped forward to obey the command.

"My wand." Lord Voldemort commanded. Barty immediately produced it. It had taken no small amount of trickery almost eleven years ago, to steal Lord Voldemort's wand away from the Ministry. They still believed they had it, lying in a protected spot in the depths of the Department of Mysteries. It was, however, a carefully transfigured stick.

Barty handed the wand over just as the vapor cleared entirely, revealing Lord Voldemort in all his glory to Dumbledore and the triad of Death Eaters.

The man that stepped carefully out of the cauldron could easily be mistaken for a wealthy statesman. He had an almost regal bearing that fit well with aristocratic features and a tall, physically fit body. Black hair with a few touches of silver and a few small wrinkles around the eyes and mouth gave him the appearance of a man in his early forties.

Voldemort paused for a moment, breathing deeply. Finally, after so long, he had a body. And not just any body, but the body that would have been his if he had not been blasted into near-oblivion. "You have done well, Barty." He praised.

Even his mind felt clearer, saner than it had been since he'd heard about the prophecy. Maybe even before that. He felt calm and focused, rather than being half-blinded by rage and paranoia. He regarded Dumbledore for a long moment, then smiled quietly.

"Bring me his belongings." He commanded.

Immediately, Parkinson hustled to where Dumbledore's things had been hidden and brought them to Voldemort, bowing low as he delivered them. Voldemort perused those belongings with a laugh. "A bag of lemon drops, Headmaster? It would seem nothing has changed."

He tossed everything save Dumbledore's wand to the side. The wand, he perused interestedly. "I wonder, Dumbledore, if you realize what it is you have here." He asked.

There was a slight shift in Dumbledore's expression.

"Ah! You do! So much the better." Voldemort said. "I believe it is time to prove, once and for all, that I fear no one." He turned to the others. "Put up an anti-apparation ward, then get outside it." He commanded. "This is between the Headmaster and myself."

The four of them hustled to obey. They grabbed the now-empty cauldron and Dumbledore's remaining things (just in case) and got the heck out of the way.

Once his followers were well clear, Voldemort tossed Dumbledore's wand to him lazily, flicking his own wand at the same time to remove the silencing spell that Dumbledore had been under all this time.

"I am afraid I must deprive you of the full trappings due an Honor Duel, Headmaster." Voldemort said. "Though I consider it thus."

Dumbledore got himself free of the restraints he'd been put under and flicked a spell at Voldemort, who dodged. "Why would you, Tom? You have no honor to defend."

"Thanks in large part to you." Voldemort returned, slashing his wand diagonally from left shoulder to right hip in front of himself, loosing a wide, vividly purple ribbon of magic.

Unable to dodge such a wide-spread spell, Dumbledore yanked one of the nearby tombstones out of the ground and levitated it in front of himself to absorb the spell, then sent a spell the yellow-green of old bruises at Voldemort. "Tut tut, Tom. Blaming me for your fall into the Dark."

Voldemort laughed as he spun away from the spell. "Oh no, Dumbledore. I'm not blaming you for that. Why would I? I quite like the Dark Arts. No, I blame you for denying me my rightful inheritance. The heir line of Slytherin may be long gone, but as the sole living descendant of pure Slytherin stock, I ought to have inherited whatever remains of Slytherin's earthly goods, and you knew that. But you kept your silence and by the time I found out about it, it was too late." Voldemort stopped toying with Dumbledore at that point. He aimed a spell chain at Dumbledore.

Spell chains were an advanced technique used in duels of all descriptions. They were groups of spells that were tailored to the strength and knowledge level of the caster. Each spell's wand movements flowed immediately into the next, allowing for little to no gap in the onslaught of spells aimed at an opponent. Chains could be designed for nearly any purpose; from harassment, to battering down an especially strong shield spell.

Of course, Voldemort's spell chains were nowhere near 'petty harassment'. Blood boiling, entrail-exploding, skinning, and turn-you-inside-out spells were the least of what he now aimed at Dumbledore. Of course, Dumbledore didn't exactly take this lying down, launching his own spell chain, though his kept firmly to so- called Light spells, rather than Voldemort's Dark Arts chains.

Dumbledore quickly found himself in a bit of trouble, which he did not understand. He and Voldemort had, after all, crossed wands during Voldemort's first reign. Voldemort had always thrown a handful of spells (almost always the Unforgivables) then run; which had led to the whole 'only one Voldemort feared' thing.

Voldemort was quick to pick up on Dumbledore's increasing confusion. He kept right on throwing spells, but since neither of them had to speak the spells aloud, he was free to taunt Dumbledore some more.

"You poor deluded Gryffindor fool." Voldemort laughed. "I am *Slytherin*. Not just by Sorting, but by blood. Playing a long game is second nature to me." He snorted as he dodged a spell that he couldn't shield against and then continued. "Playing at being afraid of you gave the common masses hope, you fool. Allowed them to think there was some shred of possibility of salvation. It also kept them looking to *you* for that salvation, rather than taking up arms themselves." 

For the most part, of course; it had reduced and concentrated the opposition Voldemort had faced. Those few who could not abide standing aside went to Dumbledore and followed his lead. This had given Voldemort only two places to watch (the DMLE being the other), instead of having to be on the watch for multiple resistance groups all over the place.

"And killing you will destroy that hope, leaving them leaderless and breaking their spirits, making it all the easier to bring the Wizarding world under my control with minimal bloodshed." Voldemort said.

He knew things were nowhere near as assured as all of that, especially with Black set against him, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was breaking Dumbledore's confidence and concentration. Making him falter and hesitate, if even for a fraction of a second. Sadly, Dumbledore was not so easily sidetracked as that and their contest continued.

It wasn't until about ten minutes later, when the entire area they'd been restricted to had been laid to waste that Voldemort finally got his opening. Nothing remained in that area other than dirt, stone dust, and the warped, twisted remains of trees and bushes they'd each used against the other. The opening had come solely due to the difference in their ages. Dumbledore was just over a hundred years old. Voldemort was thirty-six years younger than Dumbledore, and the difference in their energy levels and stamina were finally telling.

Voldemort finally managed to clip the flagging Dumbledore with a bone-breaking hex in the middle of one of his spell chains. Dumbledore went down with a cry. Before he could recover himself, Voldemort was on him, battering him with spells. Unable to divert any spell work to healing his broken leg, Dumbledore was limited to staying more or less exactly where he'd fallen, shielding himself from Voldemort's spells instead of dodging most of them. Which meant his ability to counter with offensive spell chains of his own was severely undercut.

A few minutes after that, Voldemort finally managed to overwhelm Dumbledore's defenses completely, managing to sever his wand-arm at the elbow. Voldemort immediately severed the other arm in like manner, rendering Dumbledore completely helpless. He wandered over to Dumbledore's severed wand arm and plucked the Elder Wand from the lifeless fingers' grip, tucking it safely into a pocket.

"And now you come to understand, if all too late, that you had lost before you had even begun to fight me all those years ago. You are a fool, Dumbledore, and you will die a fool." Voldemort said. Then he turned to his followers.

"I want his face recognizable and he is mine to kill. Other than that, you may do with him as you will." Voldemort told them.

All four of them lit up and immediately pulled their wands, converging on Dumbledore. They had a brief conference, to decide who got to go first and what they were going to do, then immediately began casting at Dumbledore.

For over an hour, agonized screams, gurgles, and eerie, hair-raising silence alternated amidst the constant flash of spellfire. Eventually, the four men got bored and drifted away from Dumbledore's twisted, broken, but somehow still conscious form, one by one. When Barty, the last to get bored, finally walked away, Voldemort nodded to the four of them.

"Gather everything and apparate it to headquarters." He commanded. "If the Azkaban group has not returned, apparate there to see what's going on and render assistance if it's required."

"As you command, My Lord." Barty said, bowing low before he and the others hurried to do Voldemort's bidding.

Only once they were gone did Voldemort turn to the whimpering wreck that was all that was left of the so-called Leader of the Light. "Farewell, Dumbledore." One last spell and the last of Dumbledore's blood spilled into the dirt. Voldemort didn't use Avada Kedavra on him. It would have lessened the impact when Dumbledore was found. After all, everyone knew there was no countering that particular spell. That it had not been used on Dumbledore at any point would make it very, very clear that he had been beaten in a 'fair' fight.

Once Dumbledore was well and truly dead, Voldemort gathered him and his belongings and took down the anti-apparation spell that had kept them penned into the area. He then apparated to a seldom-used back alley in Hogsmeade that Barty had sussed out earlier in the month for precisely this purpose. Voldemort arranged Dumbledore's body artfully, then pulled the Elder Wand out of his pocket. It hummed briefly against his hand. Voldemort smiled before raising it to cast one last spell.

"Morsmordre!"

Voldemort stayed only long enough to hear the first terrified scream before he apparated out.

August 2, 1992 Location Unknown

By the time Voldemort returned to their new Headquarters, the place was all but overrun with people. Fenrir and his small band of werewolves were standing against one wall, out of the general flow of traffic, while the vampire clan that had answered Voldemort's call to arms flitted about, assisting the marked Death Eaters and unmarked supporters who had gone on the Azkaban raid.

Voldemort took a careful tally, grimacing slightly at the level of damage done. He'd expected something of the sort - they were too few to have escaped unscathed - but he still didn't like seeing it. Most of the raiders were sporting some sort of damage, many of them in quite bad shape. The escapees, of course, were all ragged and skeletally thin, alongside being injured from assisting in their own escape.

Voldemort quietly began to pass among them, offering a touch, a quiet word, and in a few cases, a healing spell or counter to a spell that needed one before the damage could be healed. He accepted their groveling and worshipful praise as his rightful due. The hope and joy in most of the escapees' faces was particularly gratifying.

He lingered longest by Bellatrix. She had been, alongside Barty, both his most loyal follower and his most dangerous one. She was, unfortunately, completely insane, and had been long before her stint in Azkaban. Voldemort supposed it was the price the Black family had paid over the centuries for their inbreeding. Azkaban, it seemed, had made the situation worse. He was going to have to find a way to keep her under control, or she would cost him far more than she was worth to him. Fortunately, he had a number of possible ways to affect some control on her actions.

"You must rest." He soothed her, after her rambling had wound down a bit. "Rest and recover. There will be time enough for you to wreak vengeance on those that incarcerated you." 

He gave her arm one last pat and then moved away to consult with the most able Healer among their number. Blast Snape and his treachery. He would have been incredibly useful. But a decade as Dumbledore's lapdog seemed to have muzzled the potion master's bite.

"Report." He commanded.

"The bulk of the raiders will be back in fighting trim by week's end." The man told him. "A couple will need a few days more than that, I think. The ex-prisoners, on the other hand, won't be fully back on their feet until the end of summer. They're going to need some time to put on some weight and overcome the worst of the dementors' effects on them."

"Obtain whatever they need, by whatever needs you must." Voldemort commanded. "If anything is beyond your immediate reach, inform me at once and I will see to it that it is obtained."

The man bowed deeply. "As you command, Lord Voldemort."

Voldemort then gathered those of the company that were uninjured or had already been patched up and led them into a nearby room.

"They will attempt to track us down. This place will be under Fidelius, but I want a guard in place at all times regardless. If you see anyone from the Ministry or whom is known to be in Dumbledore's Order or Black's alliance, report their presence immediately but do not engage them."

"As you command, Lord Voldemort." They fairly chorused, quickly conferring among themselves in order to set up a guard rotation.

Voldemort, for his part, walked outside. The place wasn't under a Fidelius yet. He hadn't been able to do the spell before he'd been re-bodied, and had not wanted to have one of his followers do it. After all, they could be killed at any point, at which point everyone that knew the secret would become a Secret Keeper in their own right, making the Fidelius all but useless. On the other hand, Voldemort knew he could not be truly killed. Busted down to vapor, yes; killed, no. The Fidelius would remain unbroken with him as Secret Keeper.

It helped that this place had been in preparation as a future stronghold when he'd gone after the Potter boy. It had taken remarkably little work over the last few weeks to get the place completely ready, both for habitation and for the Fidelius spell. Better yet, it had remained undiscovered by Dumbledore or the Ministry.

Much of the work done at their new headquarters had been preparations for the Fidelius spell. The boundaries of the area to be under the Fidelius spell had to be clearly marked in some manner. The Death Eaters had to make sure that all four sides of the property had been carefully trimmed such that trees and bushes did not overlap with unprotected neighbors either above ground or below. A shallow, narrow trench had been dug in the grass, to further demarcate the boundaries and prevent even the grass from tangling with unprotected neighbors.

The incantation to seal headquarters under a Fidelius was but a moment's work for Voldemort. He gave a pleased nod when he felt the spell snap into place, and heard a rush of confusion from inside the building. He smiled slightly and headed back inside.

It was the work of a few moments to calm everyone down. He then wrote down the necessary information on a single sheet of parchment and handed it from person to person, charging them to memorize the information. By the time he'd gotten to the second person, word of what had happened was working its way through the building.

By the time that was done and Voldemort was able to incinerate the piece of parchment, things had calmed down considerably. Many of the injured were asleep. Those that were not and were mobile gathered in the dining area to partake of a late dinner.

"Tonight heralds the beginning of the end for the Ministry." Voldemort said. "We will face challenges yet, but our triumph is ordained by the very stars above. Stay loyal and true, do your best, and we will be the masters of the Wizarding world within a year."

There was a lot of cheering at that prospect. "Now, eat and restore your strength. Tomorrow, the real work begins." Voldemort told them, then snapped his fingers.

The table groaned under the weight of the food platters that appeared a half-second after that snap. The men and women around the table piled their plates with food and began to eat. At first, it was silent, less because no one had anything to say and more because they were leery of Voldemort's mood.

But gradually, as they began to divine that Voldemort was in a very good mood, they began to talk to their neighbors. The more Voldemort held his own tongue and looked quietly pleased, the more they talked and the more boisterous they got.

Voldemort knew it would take some time for them to forget his capriciousness and vicious behavior prior to his reduction to a vapor. It would be a fine balancing act, ensuring that they still feared him and obeyed without question, without resorting to the unpredictable behavior he'd once indulged in.

Voldemort silently resolved to do some research, and try to find an answer to why he'd become so unhinged a bit over a decade ago and why he was so clear-headed now. It was a definite mystery and something he needed to understand. That way, if he was going to eventually return to his unpredictable ways, he could at least try to do something about it.

He stayed quiet while his followers celebrated their victorious reunion in grand style, getting as much enjoyment from their merriment as if he had participated. Eventually, they wound down. Once everyone had eaten their fill, Voldemort regained their attention.

"Now, to matters of business. Lucius." Voldemort said, speaking to the pale blonde, who had fortunately been one of the ones to escape major injury. "You will continue your efforts to stymie Black in the Wizengamot. I do not expect you to succeed so do not fear failure. Merely make it as difficult for him as possible to get anywhere with his proposed reforms."

Lucius bowed, accepting his orders.

"The healers and potion makers among our number will continue to attend to the needs of our injured comrades. Barty, I would like for you and the most capable of our followers to organize a retraining program for everyone as they regain fitness. Those of our people who were in Azkaban will be quite rusty with their skills and in need of a refresher, and the badly injured will need to regain their form."

Barty nodded.

"Fenrir, I want you and your pack to sow as much chaos as you can among both the muggle and magical communities. Bite at will but do not kill." Voldemort commanded. "The same applies to Johan and our Vampire brethren." Voldemort nodded to the leader of the vampire clan, who nodded back in return.

"I want recruitment stepped up." Voldemort said. "Those of you with children of age will bring them before me a week from now at a place I will set up, to be assessed for their suitability for our cause. They will *not* be forced." He commanded. "Unwilling recruits are poor recruits. If they do not wish to serve me, they will not be punished. They will merely be obliviated of the knowledge of having met with me and allowed to return to their lives." That would, hopefully, reassure his people as to the fates of their offspring. "Only those loyal to the cause will be brought here to Headquarters and marked."

"The Ministry will have its hands full trying to regain control of the dementors, which will aid our efforts." Voldemort continued. "But I want as many of the Dark creatures committed to our cause as we can manage, preferably all of them. While Fenrir and Johan are sowing chaos, the rest of you at this table will begin to gather them. You are also permitted to cause whatever chaos you can manage while going about your task. There is to be no killing of anyone magical, even halfbloods and mudbloods. Every drop of magical blood in existence is precious, and enough of it has been spilled already. That being said, you may kill muggles with impunity."


	12. Azkaban Falls

Azkaban Falls

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. 

//Telepathy//  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 2, 1992 Azkaban Island

Yaxley, Nott, and Macnair had been as careful in their planning as Barty had, and had drilled the various Death Eaters and their allies that would be taking part in the Azkaban raid relentlessly in the weeks leading up to the strike. Alecto and Amycus Carrow had been a vital part of the training and preparation as they had been in charge of contacting and bringing in the UK-based Death Eaters and allies.

Fenrir had been the first of the allies to be brought in and the most troublesome. Fenrir loathed all wizards as a matter of course, and did not take kindly to taking orders from anyone short of Voldemort himself ... Even then, Fenrir had frequently balked at Voldemort's orders during the first war.

Unfortunately for Fenrir, his rebellions had consistently been stymied thanks to one man ... Macnair. Macnair was most known for his lust for killing but the Inner Circle had discovered another, much less known fact about the man. Macnair possessed an intimate knowledge of predators, their instincts, behaviors, and how to manipulate and dominate said predators using their own psychology against them.

Voldemort had learned a few of Macnair's tricks but had mostly depended on sheer magical strength to bully Fenrir into line. Macnair had passed as much of his knowledge on to the other inner-circle Death Eaters as he could to generally poor results. Ironically enough, Snape was the only other Inner Circle member that possessed the knack Macnair had for dealing with predators. The other Inner Circle members ended up letting Macnair deal with Fenrir and the other predatory Dark creatures that had rallied to Voldemort's cause.

That was why Macnair had been one of the ones put in charge of the Azkaban raid. Voldemort knew that Fenrir would be among the fighters and Macnair's skill in dealing with the fractious werewolf would be required.

Johan, the leader of the Vampire clan, had been nowhere near as problematic to contact and get on board with the Azkaban raid. The only problem with him and his people was the requirement for training to either be in windowless rooms or done at night. There could have been a problem since the raid was projected to take place during midday. However, among Voldemort's repertoire of spells was one that provided cloud cover thick enough to allow the vampires free reign. This spell was taught to several of the future raiders so that the cloud cover could be maintained no matter what.

Everyone had been gathered together at the new Headquarters (not Malfoy Manor) the day of Voldemort's resurrection and the raid. Once Barty's small crew had taken off to their positions, the larger army had left in small groups to gather near where the Azkaban boat landed to pick up prisoners, guards, and the exceedingly rare visitor. They took care to not clump together and to keep out of sight, lest someone spot them and be forewarned of trouble.

Once they were all in position, it turned into a waiting game. There was no knowing how or when Barty would manage to get his hands on his victim. While Dumbledore's name had never been mentioned as the proposed victim for the resurrection potion, most of the Death Eaters were intelligent enough to figure out that Voldemort was likely to go after one of two people: Dumbledore or Potter. With Potter behind the nigh-impregnable wards and walls of Potter Castle, being protected by not only Black but also Lupin and most of the best fighters on Hogwarts' staff, Dumbledore was ironically enough the easier target at the moment. He at least traveled outside Hogwarts' wards in the summer and did so alone. Getting to Potter right now would have involved a long-term siege.

Finally, a house elf popped up in front of Yaxley, its mere presence all that was required to pass the message that Barty had successfully gotten his hands on Dumbledore.

Contrary to popular belief most of the Death Eaters were capable of producing a patronus. After all, that particular spell required only a good, strong, happy memory and not a pure soul or any such drivel. Only a small handful of them were either too twisted or too magically weak to manage the feat: Voldemort had deliberately recruited as many of the magically powerful purebloods as humanly possible. Nor was the Order the only group to use patroni as a totally secure means of communication.

Yaxley summoned his patronus and sent it to spread the message to begin making their way to the island proper. Macnair and his small band were going across first since Macnair would be able to communicate with the Dementors.

Some hundred meters down the beach - tucked under a cluster of spells to keep people from noticing them - Macnair, Fenrir, and Johan immediately made their way to the water where Macnair transfigured a boat from a pocketful of wood he'd brought for that specific purpose. Since he was in charge of keeping the spells on their small craft, Fenrir and Johan did the paddling and steering though Fenrir did his share with a lot of grumbling and growling. The moment they made landfall on the island, three dementors headed straight for them. Macnair immediately began to 'talk' to them.

Dementors could not speak and could not comprehend human speech. Whether this was deliberate (to keep them from hearing and possibly being swayed by the pleas of their victims) or just how they were, no one knew. Instead, what could best be described as a magical form of sign language was used to communicate. This language consisted of particular spells the dementors could pick up on, spells that had no other use outside of communicating with Dementors. There was a double handful or so of spells, used to communicate orders to the Dementors. At least, those were the communication spells known to the Ministry. Voldemort, during his first reign, had somehow managed to add a small number of communications spells that the Dementors recognized as his and his alone, and responded accordingly.

Macnair quickly fired off the spells Voldemort had taught him to use. Almost immediately, the three Dementors backed off. One of them floated away, only to return a minute or so later with a fourth. This one was marginally taller and its cloak in marginally better condition, which marked it as the closest thing the Dementors had to a leader.

Another short series of spells and the leader bowed, motioning the other Dementors away and evidently somehow communicating the situation not just to those three, but to all of the Dementors that Macnair could see floating about the island outside of the prison. hey all immediately left off patrolling and headed for the prison, with the leader joining them.

"That got it." Macnair growled, pleased. He fired off a patronus message to the others to let them know it was safe. Immediately, the boats that had been lurking just offshore grounded themselves on the beach and the men and women on the boats began to pour off the boats and head for the prison.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Amelia Bones had not been idle once she had officially joined the Black Alliance and had been informed of the impending attack on Azkaban. She'd drilled her people mercilessly in preparation. Unfortunately, even all the clout the Black Alliance had been able to muster had not been sufficient to convince Fudge. He refused to corral the Dementors and put them somewhere other than Azkaban Island, which had complicated the planned defense immensely.

Fortunately, Amelia had been able to secretly arrange for special-order portkeys. The portkeys transported groups of Aurors, Hit Wizards, and Unspeakables onto the island after the official shift change without them having to go past the boat check-point. This prevented the Dementors patrolling the island from noticing their arrival and forewarning Voldemort. Another, much larger group consisting almost entirely of Black Alliance volunteers was waiting to apparate to the beaches nearest the island once the attack began. This would hopefully cut off the Death Eaters' escape.

The defenders inside the prison had stationed themselves at various critical points. Thus, it didn't take long for someone to spot the Dementors patrolling outside the prison suddenly turning and heading for the prison.

"Shit. Here they come." The man muttered, and instantly sent a patronus message to the rest before swiveling to get back-to-back with his grim-faced partner. 

Everyone had been paired off so that one could, theoretically, hold off the Dementors while the other worried about the wand-wielding attackers. Unfortunately, while the plan of attack had been theoretically sound and had been practiced enough to be natural to the various defenders, it had missed the true gravity of the situation by several orders of magnitude.

Each group soon found itself swarmed relentlessly by as many as a dozen Dementors each from multiple directions as the Dementors inside the prison rallied to the inaudible call of their fellows outside. Worse, they refused to be chased completely away by the patroni being fired off. This put an added strain on everyone as they tried to defend themselves, having to battle the effects of the Dementors, the Dementors themselves, and the Death Eaters as they got into firing range.

Macnair, Fenrir, Johan, and Yaxley were leading the bulk of the Death Eaters and their sympathizers in a frontal assault, blasting their way through the front door and windows nearest the front door. Fortunately for their plan, those windows led to small areas meant for things like prisoner interrogation, searching the rare visitors for dangerous contraband, and doing likewise to newly arrived prisoners before they were put into their prison jumpsuits and into a cell.

That frontal assault, however, was largely a feint to draw the attention of the defenders. Because there was one last group, lead by Nott, which was headed elsewhere and needed all eyes on everyone else to get there undetected.

The three men were taking vicious advantage of the fact that outside of Quidditch players, most wizards (like most nonmagical humans) didn't think in three dimensional terms. This meant that they tended to not look up. They also would not consider that an assaulting force would go for the roof rather than the front door. This was exactly what Nott and his small group were doing.

Further, Nott and his group were carrying several sacks full of wands. Most of the wands were pureblood family heirlooms that had sat in their homes or vaults for years and years. But Nott had one small sack that held carefully labeled wands; wands that belonged to various Death Eaters. Wands that had been stolen in much the same manner as Voldemort's had been over the last decade. After all, while almost any wand will do in a pinch, a wand suited to you was most effective. Considering that the Death Eaters that had been incarcerated were - by and large - the best fighters in the group, making sure they had their own wands was really for the best.

Nott's group blasted through the roof, the noise covered by the ruckus of the frontal assault and then spread out on the upper floors. As they'd hoped, nearly all of the defenders had been concentrated on the lower floors in anticipation of an assault from the only 'weak point' in Azkaban's defenses. Better, the few that had been stationed on the middle floors were easily killed from behind before they realized there was a problem. That accomplished, the Death Eaters began opening the cell doors, regardless of who was behind them, and passing out wands as the inmates raced towards freedom. Only Nott was paying attention to who was behind which door, and that because he had the small bag of labeled wands and was in search of their owners.

In very little time, dozens of men and a handful of women were swarming down the stairs towards the defenders. The loss of life that could have resulted would have been catastrophic for the Ministry and the magical world at large. Would have been, except for the fact that a certain freed elf had been rallying his servant brethren in defense of their owners, many of whom were present for Azkaban's defense.

Dobby had been every bit as busy as the various Death Eaters and Black Alliance members had been. He'd talked to and rallied the house elves attached to as many of the defenders as he possibly could, trying to organize some sort of defense when the attack happened. He copied much of the training the Black Alliance and DMLE members were doing in preparation for the attack, though in a more limited fashion. Wherever possible, he got at least two house elves to agree to work in tandem in protecting their Master or Mistress. He was also bright enough to capitalize on the house elf tendency to serve unseen, encouraging the planned defenders to stay hidden as much as possible.

They'd stayed out of the fight at first, since their owners were doing quite well against the frontal assault. But when they realized that half the inmates of the prison were bearing down on their masters, who were unaware of the danger, they leapt into action. Nearly as one, a full two dozen house elves popped into the prison, enraged, ready, and able to defend their masters and the rest of the prison's defenders.

Between one breath and the next, the Death Eaters, dementors, and inmates went from winning the fight to being thrown into stone walls, dropped from incredible heights, and otherwise thoroughly trounced. Trounced by forces they couldn't see or counter, as no visible spells were being flung at them. Nor were there visible targets in the direction most of the new attacks were coming from. This included the Dementors, as the creatures had little to no effect on House Elves for reasons no one had ever thought to investigate. Dementors might have been the magical world's unkillable boogeymen, but they had bones that could be broken, and the house elves took vicious advantage of that fact. They turned several Dementors into little more than piles of bone chips and shredded cloth and disabled many more.

Several of the house elves did make themselves visible, standing between their masters and especially large groups of attackers. They put shields up, their faces grimly determined, despite their fear that their defense of their masters wouldn't be appreciated. After all, it was one thing to serve, and another to *fight for* your owner without their knowledge. Amelia, one of the much-beleaguered defenders, stared at her house elf in stunned surprise for a moment. 

"Tucker? What on Earth ... you know what, never mind. That can wait. Can we shoot through that shield?" She wanted to know, pointing at the barely-visible dome protecting them.

Tucker, who'd hunkered down a bit in anticipation of being told off, turned his head just enough to look at his Mistress. "Yes Mistress Bones, ma'am. You is being able to hurt the bad mens through Tuckers' shield, but they's not being able to hurt you!"

Amelia could hear the grim determination in Tucker's voice and, truth be told, this didn't surprise her all that much. Tucker had, after all, been her personal elf since her birth. As such, he'd taken a vested, obsessive interest in keeping her in one piece. An interest that had only gotten stronger when she'd joined the Aurors and stronger still when she became head of the DMLE. It was due entirely to Tucker's obsessive attention to her safety that no malicious mail had ever hurt her. This situation was just an extension of that protectiveness. Amelia was both open-minded and pragmatic enough to accept and take full advantage of the protection thus proffered. 

"Right. Tell me if you start to get tired." Amelia told him, then went back to trying to cut down the attackers and escapees. As did her partner, one of the more junior Aurors. Amelia had been careful to spread the more experienced and vicious Aurors around, never putting two of them together. This ensured that there were as many hard-hitters and experienced tacticians spread around the prison as possible. 

"And Tucker?" Amelia said. Tucker glanced back at her again. Amelia smiled down at him. "Thanks."

Tucker beamed at her, clearly thrilled, before he turned his full attention back to the shield he was holding up. That shield was getting quite a pounding from the various attackers. Amelia was a rather recognizable and high-ranked target that the Death Eaters would have dearly loved to eliminate.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

Bellatrix, crazed and weakened as she was by her stay in Azkaban, was the one that managed to organize some of the escapees into some sort of halfway effective fighting force. Most of the escapees that rallied to her call were Death Eaters, though a few of the smarter prisoners there for other reasons also followed her lead. They were quick to realize that while she might have been nuts, she was both a vicious fighter and VERY invested in getting the hell out of there as swiftly and efficiently as possible. Bellatrix was well aware of what such a well-organized assault on the prison meant, which was why she was so determined. It meant her Lord was back. There was nothing short of Death itself that would keep her from His side. 

Bellatrix was a particularly vicious opponent as she fought her way free of the prison, aided by the other prisoners that had rallied around her. It helped that she had her own wand in hand, rather than some half-assed piece of shit wand that didn't really work for her. How her free compatriots had managed to obtain her wand (and the wands of many of the other Death Eaters) she didn't know, but it went a long way towards encouraging her to forgive their apparent cowardice in not proclaiming their allegiance to their rightful Lord.

Bella had to actively stop herself from engaging in long, drawn-out duels with several people. Instead, she concentrated on just blasting her way through as viciously and efficiently as possible. That meant keeping to fairly low-powered, but still effective curses and hexes rather than using power-hungry Dark Arts curses or the Unforgivables. She was well aware that she was substantially weakened and trying to use the nastier curses would see her magically exhausted in short order. 

Unfortunately for her, this brutality earned the attention of the house elves when they arrived and she was one of the first ones to get bashed into a wall. Nor was it the only time that happened since she managed to crawl to her feet and resume her grimly determined march to the sea, freedom, and her Lord. All in all, she got bashed into a wall at least three more times, yet somehow managed to regain her feet and continue her march each time. Then, just meters from the door, Bellatrix felt her Mark flare to life. She gave a wild, gleeful cackle, briefly dancing in place in joy and triumph before she bolted out the door and headed for the boats and the sea.

+_+_+_+_+_+_

The moment the alert had gone out, the group that had been put together to (hopefully) stop the escapees as they got to shore apparated into position. Many in this group - while technically less trained than the Ministry employees defending the island - were actually far, far more vicious and inventive than their officially trained counterparts. After all, the Ministry employees were trained to apprehend, not kill on sight. The Alliance members had no such constraints.

Among those taking part in the defense were most of the people who had been born Blacks, Remus, Minerva, Filius, and Severus. To their surprise, Hagrid had shown up as well. They hadn't planned on him being able to attend as his absence from the school would probably have been noticed by Dumbledore, something they wanted to avoid. After all, Dumbledore still thought Hagrid worshiped the ground he walked on and was unaware that Hagrid's loyalty had been transferred to Harry. Hagrid had managed to evade Dumbledore's attention by the simple expedient of walking into the Forbidden Forest as he had done hundreds of times over the years before portkeying himself and Fluffy once they were well out of sight.

The only one not there was Sirius. He and Remus had talked and decided that, wherever possible, they would not both attend any given raid, attack, or defensive action. Harry was, after all, still very young and badly in need of a parental figure. 

The best news for their defense was the fact that Hagrid had thought to bring Fluffy and had calmly gotten the Cerberus' attention and commanded him to guard the beach against any attackers from the sea. With both Hagrid's presence and orders, Fluffy ignored the other defenders, considering them to be what he was supposed to be protecting. Hagrid had briefly considered bringing Norbert. However, Norbert wasn't even fully grown yet, nor trained, and he'd swiftly discarded the idea.

Behind the main phalanx, Severus quietly backed up, melting into what few bits of shadow were available. He knew that if he were to stand and fight with the others, he'd be a dead man. The Death Eaters were all too aware, now, of exactly whose side he was on, and would target him specifically if given half a chance. He was a formidable fighter, but no one would be able to win against the sort of odds the Death Eaters would fling at him if they got the chance.

Fortunately, Severus had an option other than a highly vulnerable and visible frontal assault. Half a lifetime ago, almost literally, he had discovered the fact that the Marauders were unlicensed Animagi. Though he had only seen Potters' form, he had not been fool enough to think that only Potter had managed the feat. What one of that misbegotten group did, the others did as well.

Back then, Severus had not been willing to permit the Marauders any advantage. If they could manage the Animagus transformation, then by Merlin, so could he, despite the fact that Transfiguration was far from his best subject.

The only drawback had been that there was no guarantee that his animagus form would be of any use. Potter's form had been largely useless for anything other than keeping the transformed Lupin in line as there were few places a full-grown, antlered buck could go without being noticed. Black, Pettigrew, and Minerva's forms had all been more useful, of course, but the list of registered Animagi had been pretty equally split between useless and pointless forms.

Fortune had smiled on Severus however and provided him with a form that not only embodied everything he was, but was damn useful on a number of levels. He became a black mamba. He'd learned all he could about them after he'd figured out what his form was. They were incredibly fast, secretive, territorial, violently aggressive when cornered or protecting its territory, and one of the most venomous snakes (magical or not) on the planet. Learning all of that had resulted in one of the few times Severus had walked around with a grin on his face in public. Fortunately for his growing reputation at the time, it had been a very unnerving predatory grin.

Severus had kept the fact he was an animagus secret from everyone, including Voldemort and Dumbledore. It had been his ace in the hole and had enabled him to eavesdrop on a number of meetings he otherwise would have known nothing about on both sides. Of course he had to be more careful around Voldemort, who would have figured out in very short order that something was amiss with the snake he'd heard lurking about. It had also saved his life on more than one occasion. Mambas were very slender, and Severus' form was a dark, matte charcoal gray nearly the same color as the inside of his mouth. This had enabled him to change and dart into a hole or hide in the shadows to escape an otherwise well-put-together trap or avoid being seen somewhere that would bode ill for his status as a spy.

He'd put the fact that he was every bit as poisonous as a real black mamba to good use. Both during the war and afterwards, several Death Eaters and high-ranked unmarked sympathizers had died quite mysteriously, or simply disappeared. Sadly, he had not been able to do *that* too frequently, nor had he dared to do it to the more prominent members during the war, as their deaths would surely have been investigated by Voldemort. After the war, most of the truly dangerous Death Eaters had been in Azkaban and out of his reach, preventing him from eliminating them as a threat.

Everyone was so used to Severus lurking about in the background that no one noticed him doing the same thing now. He did not immediately transform, waiting to do so until the boats became visible on the horizon. Once they did, however, Severus immediately transformed and burrowed under the loose sand, lying in wait for the first suckers to survive their boats getting blown up to touch land.

The boats were definitely the chokepoint for the escapees and Death Eaters. The anti-apparation ward extended almost to the shore, forcing them to make landfall before they could apparate to safety. This meant that the landbound defenders had rather easy targets to aim for. Four boats went down with all hands aboard under the hail of spellfire before the escapees managed to start shielding their crafts against spellfire while the rest of their fellows tried to bring down the defenders. Unfortunately, at the initial distance, single defenders were a lot harder to hit than boats full of as many as six people.

Several of the people in boats towards the rear of the escaping armada were bright enough to get a good look at the party waiting for them and veer off, heading for any patch of beach up or down the coast that wasn't up to its eyeballs in wizards and a Cerberus. If they could manage it, they escaped the anti-apparation wards out to sea and apparated to safety from their boats. It had the side benefit of largely keeping them out of range of the defenders' spells. Worse, most of the folks bright enough to veer off happened to be Death Eaters, which meant that Voldemort's organization would be largely returned to its previous glory.

The bulk of the non Death Eater escapees however were either desperate, crazy, or magically weak enough to head for the closest bit of land despite it being full of people trying their best to kill the escapees. The results were more or less inevitable. It was, to put it bluntly, a bloodbath.

The defenders had taken the time, while they were waiting for the escapees to get into range, to transfigure barricades for everyone to hide behind. Between that fact, the presence of so many no-holds-barred fighters and Fluffy running around snapping three people at a time in half (quite literally), the escapees were being cut down almost as fast as they got in range.

Those few that got past the first line of defenders had to run Severus' gauntlet, as he darted swiftly from person to person, biting calves and ankles and feet as people fled. This did not instantly kill everyone that he bit, of course. Within six hours however, every last one of the people he'd bitten would be very, very dead unless they managed to get to Voldemort *and* Voldemort had a plentiful supply of bezoars on hand, as the UK magical world didn't have anything resembling black mamba antivenin. While adders were common, they were not virulently venomous and bites were generally able to be dealt with using general purpose anti-poison potions. The UK had never had cause to develop anything specialized to deal with more venomous species like black mambas. Potions to deal with extremely venomous species existed but were seen only in the snakes' native home ranges or breeding facilities.

Being so slender and fast meant that Severus was easily able to evade the few curses aimed his way by the people who managed to spot him before he took a bite out of them. It also meant he was able to guard the backs of his fellow defenders from the odd person who thought to try to curse them in the back once they got past. Things went so well for the defenders that the various house elves that belonged to the purebloods hadn't been needed to defend their owners.

And then, finally, the fight was over when the last escapees either fell or successfully (seemingly or in actuality) fled with their lives. With no more escapees to go after, the defenders immediately transfigured boats and headed for the island to render aid to the defenders there. Severus transformed and made himself visible to the others, amused that no one seemed to have realized there had been a black mamba on the battlefield and Severus himself had been absent. Only Hagrid did not go to the island since he needed to return Fluffy to Hogwarts as soon as possible.

The defenders kept a wary eye out for the Dementors, aware that none had been seen making their way across the water yet. It unnerved everyone when they realized that there were no Dementors to be seen on the island, either.

None of them remembered that Dementors could fly ... and that they had forgotten to look up during the fight. The Dementors had made their way to shore well overhead and well clear of the battle, concerned only with spreading out and beginning to breed now that they were free of Ministry constraints once and for all.

Overall, the defenders had been fortunate. Several junior DMLE agents had been killed in the fight on the island, but none of the more experienced members had suffered such a fate. There were, however, more than enough injuries to go around, many of them quite severe and needing days or (in a few cases) weeks to heal.

The better news was that at this point, Amelia had Fudge by the balls. She'd fought with him, as had Sirius, over the dementors. And now the damn things had gone and, at best, abandoned their posts. At worst (which Fudge would never admit to) they had joined Voldemort's forces. Fudge would have to do a LOT of very talented dancing to avoid losing his job over this.

Those few escapees who had merely been knocked unconscious or had been hurt badly enough to be unable to escape instead of being killed, were quickly patched up and thrown back into cells until something more secure could be arranged. With that done, the least injured Aurors were left behind to guard the remaining prisoners. The injured were triaged as much as possible before they began to try to figure out how to get everyone to St. Mungo's.

It was Remus, chagrined at having missed the significance of the presence of house elves defending their owners on the island, who thought to suggest having the elves pop the injured to the hospital. There was a great deal of chagrin among the rest of the defenders as well when they realized the missed opportunity the elves presented for the defense of the island. The elves were promptly put to use getting the injured to medical aid.

"Next time, we have to remember to include them in our plans." Amelia said, glancing down at Tucker fondly. "It behooves us to use every resource available to us and if they're willing to fight, by Merlin we should let them."

Tucker looked like he was about a half-second from exploding in sheer pride and glee. He actually leaned against Amelia's leg briefly. "Tucker is always willing to protect his Mistress." He declared.

"Next time, I'll remember to call you and let you help." Amelia promised.

The rest of the pureblood defenders were making similar mental promises to their own elves.

August 2, 1992 Black Manor

Immediately after the raid, the various members of the Alliance met at Black Manor since not all of them had access to Potter Castle. They were met by a grim-faced Sirius and an openly weeping Hagrid.

"They got Dumbledore." Sirius told everyone when they had all settled in. "The crazy bastard decided to go for a stroll in Hogsmeade. No idea who nabbed him but they must have moved fast and used a portkey ... it's really the only way I can think to get hold of anyone without having to fight them."

There were several nods around the room in agreement.

"They tortured him." Sirius said, still looking grim. He may have wanted to kill Dumbledore for what he'd done to Harry but to his mind, not even Dumbledore had deserved what had evidently been done to him. "No idea what-all they did, but the only reason anyone could tell it was him was because they'd not touched his face."

Amelia looked a little ill at the implications. "I'd better go. The Ministry is going to be a madhouse." She said.

"No shit." Sirius said. "Everyone is freaking out, and Fudge is the worst one." He gave his head a disgusted shake.

"I'll talk to Rufus, Arthur, and the other Department Heads as soon as I can." Amelia said, already heading for the fireplace. Then she rolled her eyes at herself and stopped. "Tucker!" She called.

Sirius grinned at her. "Discovering how useful the little blighters are all over again, are you?"

"Quite." She said. "I'll send word when I can. You may need to make an appearance."

"Kind of figured that." Sirius said with a nod. "See you later, and good luck."


	13. Aftermath

Aftermath

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Y'all knew the Pink Toad would show up sometime. Now is that time. *evil cackle*

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 2, 1992 Ministry (evening)

It had not been a good evening. The news of the Azkaban raid had stirred up quite a hornet's nest Aurors and officials of every stripe were seen racing around the Ministry building like so many headless chickens. Fudge was in a full-on hand-wringing, wailing panic. Or he was, for about a half hour, before his most trusted, most reliable Undersecretary arrived.

Fudge didn't know what he would do without Dolores Umbridge. Dolores rightly pointed out that it was not possible for so many of their most prominent citizens to abrogate the law in such a horrible manner. Dolores was of the opinion that friends of Black's had managed to obtain hairs from said citizens and polyjuiced themselves so as to besmirch those citizens' good names. That a large group of Black's supporters were seen to be fighting the raiders would have seen Black being praised to the heavens for trying to stop the raid.

That praise would have translated into more power. Power that Black neither needed nor deserved. Power that would have allowed him to usurp Fudge himself, if Dolores hadn't seen through the ruse. She pointed out the scheme to Fudge, then spread the word amongst some few others who were ardent supporters of Fudge's. Black would not be allowed to get away with this outrage.

Having the Dark Mark pop up in Hogsmeade shortly after the Azkaban raid had become known had been enough to put a lot of people in a panic. The discovery of Dumbledore's body ... Well to be frank, it had done everything that Voldemort had hoped it would. The general populace was having a collective apoplexy, and the Ministry and Wizengamot were frozen by indecision. They had become incapable of action without Dumbledore's leading the way over the years, and while Sirius had tried his best in the latest Wizengamot session, one strongly worded lecture was not going to counteract something like seventy-five years of habit. 

By dawn, a number of adult halfbloods, muggleborns, lesser purebloods, and their families had fled the island for hopefully safer shores. The vast majority of those who did not flee were shaking in their boots and wailing about who would save them now that Dumbledore was gone. Unsurprisingly, a good number of these people fully expected a certain 12-year-old-boy to 'deal with' Voldemort right then and there. The nasty irony was that virtually all of them would have then condemned Harry for killing Voldemort, despite the general consensus being that was the only solution to stop Voldemort permanently.

Dumbledore's somewhat reduced group of ardent supporters and believers were the hardest hit. Most of them were in deep shock and doing their best impressions of headless chickens and ostriches. A few were in full-on denial, claiming that the horribly mangled body couldn't possibly be Dumbledore's. That Dumbledore was undefeatable and that someone had polyjuiced or glamoured someone to look like him as a horribly gauche prank.

Fudge and a small contingent of other people were strenuously denying that the Death Eaters or Voldemort were involved in any way, shape, or form. This despite a raftload of evidence to the contrary, including several dead bodies bearing Dark Marks. Not all of the people in this group were Fudge supporters, either. Some were just too terrified to contemplate the possibility of Voldemort having returned.

It was into this madhouse of activity that Sirius walked, wearing his Wizengamot robes. He was promptly mobbed by a large number of people demanding to know where Harry was and when he was going to deal with Voldemort once and for all. To say that Sirius was not pleased by these demands was to vastly understate the case. He cast a Sonorous so that everyone in the Atrium could hear him.

"You lot of yellow-bellied cowards! Did I not tell you? Did none of you hear me? We are armed, with weapons. We are *adults*. If you want this dealt with, then by Merlin go out there and deal with it yourselves! You all know spells enough to duel with, or are you all really squibs playing at being wizards? And how dare you demand that a twelve-year-old boy who has only a year's worth of tuition under his belt fix the problem *we* created! You make me sick. Quit whining and hiding behind others and bloody well go and *do* something to save yourselves!" He roared.

There were more than a few that did not take this bollicking all that well. As with Sirius' speech in the Wizengamot, there were folks who were never going to take being called cowards lying down.

"You're one to talk!" Someone bellowed over the muttering Sirius' comments caused. "Where the hell were you when all this was happening?"

Sirius snorted. "Were it not for me, the entire population of Azkaban would now be wandering the island." He yelled back. "I called all those extra defenders in. As for why I personally wasn't there ... " He shrugged. "Harry is a *child*. He needs an adult in his life that he can trust and depend on. My allies and I made the decision that one of us would stay out of each fight, where ever possible, just in case. It was my turn this time. Next time, someone else will sit out."

"Next time?" Someone else shrieked. "You think there will be a next time?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Of *course* there will be a next time." He yelled back, thankful the Sonorous allowed his voice to carry over the shrieks caused by using Voldemort's name. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, get over yourselves. It's a name, people. Yes, the man that bears it is a scary son of a bitch, but he's nowhere near scary enough to have earned the right to make people afraid of his name. Grow up! Now, if you don't mind, I do believe the Wizengamot has an emergency meeting that I need to get to." That said, Sirius started heading for the elevator.

There was some minor grumbling and a few dirty looks, but the general populace let him past. Sirius headed down to the courtroom where the meeting was going to be taking place. When he got there, he grimaced. If anything, there was more panic, fear, and chaos here than there had been in the Atrium.

Augusta Longbottom, Malcolm Davis and Lawton Greengrass were apparently the eyes of the storm, being the only people in the room that were apparently calm on Sirius' first perusal. Everyone else seemed to be freaking out at various levels. Sirius gave a mental sigh as he walked over to Augusta. He felt bad for Malcolm, who was having little to no luck in getting the panicking Wizengamot members to calm down, shut up, and sit down.

"So, complete panic and pandemonium are the order of the day then?" He asked Augusta.

She gave him a darkly amused grin. "More or less. You need to watch your back. Fudge would have this as being entirely your fault ... some sort of plot to take over the Ministry by fear, or some such. Apparently, both sides of the Azkaban raid were your people."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Anything to believe it's not the Death Eaters and especially not Voldie." He said with a sigh. "Right, when that comes up, I'll kick Fudge's shins."

August 2, 1992 Hogwarts Headmaster's Office

Minerva, having heard the news about Dumbledore, hustled to Hogwarts. Fawkes greeted her with a sad-yet-triumphant sounding trill.

"Right. Hogwarts? Have I your official approval to stand as Headmistress?" Minerva asked, glancing over at the Hat. She wasn't about to presume, not when she'd gotten a good idea of what the castle was capable of doing to someone she didn't like or approve of.

"You do." The Hat said, its masculine voice rather at odds with the normally more feminine voice that came from the statues and suits of armor.

"I need to recall all the teachers. We're going to need to reorganize things a bit. Mostly to keep Fudge's nose out of here. I know you could stop him, but it's better if we just don't give him the opportunity to interfere."

"Agreed." Hogwarts said.

Minerva wrote a note, then copied it enough times for all the staff. Before she could think to ask the elves to deliver the notes, Fawkes flew over and held out a leg.

"Thank you, Fawkes." Minerva said, then stroked the golden-red plumage before she tied the letters on. A few moments later, Fawkes disappeared in a flash of flame.

While she waited for the staff to arrive, Minerva began the task of sorting through the bits, bobs, books and baubles that Dumbledore had filled the office with. She checked the desk drawers first, hoping for a journal or the like. She had no idea if Dumbledore'd had a will, and a diary might be the best shot at finding out, if she didn't stumble across the will itself. Not to mention the fact that a diary might have bits of valuable information in it, like what Dumbledore had been up to, and any schemes he'd put into place.

Pomona was the first to arrive, as she spent her summers close to the school. The greenhouses required constant attention, so while Pomona could go on vacation, going abroad wasn't feasible. The others came in singly and in pairs, until they were all in the office. Minerva sighed as she stood.

"I must inform you that earlier today, Headmaster Dumbledore was kidnapped from Hogsmeade, tortured, and killed." She said, deciding there was really no way to sugar-coat this mess. She paused, letting them all get the expressions of horror and dismay out of the way before she continued.

"Worse, Azkaban has been raided and mostly emptied. Effective immediately, I am stepping up as Headmistress, with Hogwarts' approval." McGonagall said. 

Not everyone in the room was in on the fact that Hogwarts was sentient, but it was well known that the school could and would make life very difficult for bad Headmasters. Phineus Nigellus Black had found that one out the hard way, among a few others. Minerva glanced at other three Heads of House. 

"Pomona, would you be willing to act as Deputy Headmistress?" She asked.

It had been a difficult decision to make, really. Severus and Filius both could have been Deputy as well. Unfortunately, Severus really couldn't be spared. The Slytherins needed him as Head of House. Yes, there were other Slytherin Alumni that could have stepped up as Head, one of whom was in the castle already. Unfortunately, Septima Vector did not have the forceful, commanding personality that being Head of Slytherin would require. Nor did she have personal experience as a Death Eater, and thus ammunition with which to turn the children most likely to become the next generation of Death Eaters away from that path. Not to mention that Severus was going to be up to his eyeballs in anti-Voldemort activities for the foreseeable future.

Filius would likewise be busy with anti-Voldemort activities when he wasn't teaching or grading papers. That aside, he could be more easily spared than Severus. Minerva needed someone who wouldn't be haring off at a moment's notice to assist with a battle, or doing extracurricular training, or anything like that.

Pomona looked thoroughly surprised at the request, and glanced at Severus and Filius. "I ... are you sure, Minerva?"

"Positive." Minerva said. "Especially since one of the Deputy's duties includes home visits with upcoming muggleborn students." Having someone personable, approachable, and non-alarming to talk to the muggle parents was a plus. Severus had to work fairly hard to *not* be intimidating, and would have been far too inclined to hex people that annoyed him in one way or another. Filius resembled a goblin a little too strongly to put people at ease the first time they encountered the magical world. It was probably unfair and biased that a 'normal' person was required, but that's how it was.

Pomona nodded. "Then I accept." She said.

Minerva nodded. "I've already sent the letters for this summer, and arranged all the visits, so you won't have all that much to do before school begins. I'll give you the list and walk you through the various duties tomorrow."

Pomona nodded.

"Does anyone have any idea who Dumbledore hired for the DADA spot this year?" Minerva wanted to know. She'd heard several names bandied about, but had been at Potter Castle so much she'd probably missed it if someone had been announced.

"He mentioned Lockhart the last time I spoke with him." Filius offered.

Minerva made a face, then sighed. "Well, there's little I can do about that at this stage, but I shall be appealing to Amelia for a retired Auror who might be interested in the position for next year ... or earlier, if necessary. And I need to hire on a Transfiguration teacher. I'm not going to be able to teach and complete the Headmistress duties at the same time."

Then she turned to Filch. "Filch, this is your only warning. I am not so forgiving and benevolent as Dumbledore was. If I hear of you terrorizing or threatening corporal punishment and/or torture *one* time, you're fired and banned from the castle. Am I understood?"

Filch looked sour, but nodded. "Yes Headmistress." He grouched, sounding as sour as he looked.

"Excellent. That's all I had to say. Hogwarts will remain open, though I dare say we will see a reduction in the number of students this year due to recent events."

Thus dismissed, most of the teachers left. Severus lingered behind. "Minerva, I had an idea."

"Oh?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Contact the Flamels. See if Nicholas and Perenelle might not be interested in being teachers again for a time. Nicholas could take Potions, I could switch to DADA, and Perenelle could take Transfiguration."

Minerva blinked. "That is ... quite an appealing idea, Severus, provided they agree, and would solve our current staffing problems nicely, since I have little doubt that fop will not last a month. I have no intention of permitting the children to suffer through yet more inadequate instruction in that class."

Severus nodded. "Harry wanted to come over here yet tonight." He said. "Will you join us?"

Minerva frowned in confusion briefly before she figured it out. "Ahhh, the shed skins, I take it. Yes, I think I shall join you." She had known that Harry had wanted to go get the skins at some point, but unfortunately Dumbledore hadn't left the castle until today, and it hadn't been worth the risk of messing about with Shass when he was in the building. With Azkaban largely emptied and Voldemort re-bodied, there was no time to lose in getting the armor situation sorted out.

August 2, 1992 Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets

Remus, Harry, Hedwig and Hissesh arrived at Hogwarts about a half hour after the staff meeting. Harry had Jinks pop them into the school so he didn't have to risk being in public. He wasn't willing to risk either being kidnapped by roving Death Eaters or being mobbed by panicked citizens expecting him to fix the problem.

"Hogwarts? Would you let Severus know we're here?" Harry asked.

"Of course, Harry." A nearby suit of armor said.

A few moments later, Severus and Minerva both arrived. Much to Harry's amusement, Severus had a rolled-up leather carrying case with him. Harry could just see the handles of a few implements, and assumed it was a traveling case for implements used to harvest potion ingredients. From the way Severus' robes bulged in various places, Harry was betting he had a bunch of shrunk-down containers in his pockets as well.

"Right. Hogwarts? We need to know where Shass is at. We need her shed skins. They'll be a real help in making armor for a lot of people." Harry said.

"Oh! Yes, they would be, wouldn't they? And goodness knows there must be plenty to work with by now. Head for the third floor girl's bathroom. There's a sink in there, with a snake carved on the faucet. Say 'open' in Parseltongue, and the sink will move away. You'll be faced with a big pipe, but if you ask for stairs and lights, they'll appear." The suit of armor said.

"I guess you saw Salazar go in and out a lot?" Severus couldn't help but ask.

"Yes and no." Hogwarts agreed. "He went in and out almost every day until he died, but I was very young then, and not quite as aware. He did make sure to tell me directly what the instructions were to get in, just in case it was forgotten somewhere down the line, and Shass was needed." She continued. "Once you're down there, there is a room with a parseltongue-locked door. It opens the same way the sink does. I don't know what it looks like because I can't see down there. But Salazar said there is a sealed, warded door in the room that leads to Shass' hibernation room. Just tell it to open like you do the other doors."

Everyone headed for the bathroom in question. Harry jumped when a voice spoke up.

"Who's there?"

"Ummm ... I could ask the same thing?" Harry asked back.

From one of the broken-down stalls came the ghost of a teenage girl, looking very sour at having so many people in the bathroom. "You're a boy." She half-said, half-accused. "You don't belong in here! Go away!"

"He has my permission to be here, Myrtle." Minerva said, rightly identifying the young ghost. "We're going to go see something."

Myrtle huffed and floated off.

"Sorry about that. She is notoriously tetchy." Minerva said. "Not that I blame her, really. Rumor has it she was the lone victim when the Chamber was opened roughly fifty years ago."

Harry made a face. "It was opened?"

"Yes, and Myrtle was killed." Minerva sighed. "Merlin alone knows what Shass made of that whole thing. We might need to be careful of her, at least at first."

"Right, duly noted." Harry said, then faced the sink. [[Open]]

The sink slid aside, revealing a pipe big enough for Severus, the tallest of their number, to stand up straight in without hitting his head. It was dry and remarkably free of dust and debris.

[[Stairs and lights]] Harry said.

The pip shifted and twisted, becoming a fairly steep spiral staircase with balls of luminescent ... stuff ... every few feet along the walls to light their way.

[[Hissesh, go first. If you hear anything, let me know immediately.]] Harry told Hissesh.

Hissesh hissed wordless agreement and started slithering down the stairs. Harry gave him a minute to get a head start, then followed after him. When they reached bottom, they found themselves in a fairly large open area that had several points of egress, all of them large pipes or tunnels. The air had the stuffy, still quality that is often found in enclosed spaces that have been shut up for a while.

"We're going to need to split up to find the Chamber entrance." Severus noted.

They split up. Severus and Hissesh went down the left-hand tunnel, Minerva and Hedwig went down the right-hand pipe, and Remus and Harry went down the center tunnel.

Remus and Harry found a single shed skin in the tunnel, proof Shass had been out and about without being cleaned up after, if they'd needed the proof. A little beyond that point, they found the door to the outer chamber. Harry immediately contacted Hedwig.

//We found it, Hedwig. Center tunnel. Would you be willing to go get Severus for us?//

//Of course, Harry.// Hedwig said.

A few minutes later, Minerva and Severus joined them by the snakeskin. Severus made several delighted noises as he carefully assessed it.

"Fifty feet if it's an inch." Severus said as he carefully rolled it up and shrank it down after looking it over. "That's made this trip worth it all on its own."

Harry snickered, then led the way to the door. "Somehow, I think the guy who was down here last did some redecorating." He pointed at the fancy door. "I don't think Salazar would have put that on what amounts to the biggest terrarium ever seen."

"Agreed." Remus said, eyeing the door.

"Well, here goes nothing." [[Open]] Harry said.

The door to the outer room of Shass' area opened, and they walked in. They swiftly discovered they had a problem. The room beyond was not a plain, open chamber with a door on the other side. No, this room had been renovated extensively, and not by Salazar. At least, not by the Salazar Harry knew from the portrait at the castle.

The Chamber, originally intended to be an area for Shass to stretch out, was now cluttered with snake statues, and the far wall now bore a carved bust of ... someone. It didn't much resemble Salazar, whoever it was.

"Oy ve. Whoever got in down here was a first class prima donna." Harry said, looking around. "Any bets on who that might be?"

Severus snorted in amusement. "I'll bet it was Voldemort. He's the type, and a parseltongue."

"We may have problems getting in to see Shass." Harry admitted. "The other doors are the same, but with that statue there, I'm willing to bet he changed the password to open Shass' hibernation room."

Sure enough, it had changed. It took Harry nearly a half hour to work out what the password was, and once he got it, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of Merlin. He changed it to 'speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four'!"

That got outraged laughter from everyone. The laughter increased when the enormous bust's mouth gaped open when Harry repeated the password in parseltongue. Despite their amusement, everyone had immediately turned away, covering their eyes so as not to fall prey to Shass' gaze if she was in a cranky mood.

There was a long hesitation after the mouth gaped open, before there was the sound of movement.

[[Begone false one, intruder! I told you I would not serve you!]]

The voice was surprisingly deep for a female creature, very loud and very angry.

[[Whoah, easy. I'm not the guy that woke you last time!]] Harry said, careful to keep his back to the bust.

There was another long hesitation, and then Harry gulped in terror as a HUGE shadow passed over his body.

**Oh, shit. She's right above me!**

After several long moments, there was a deep sigh. [[No, you are not he. You smell completely different. I beg your forgiveness, Speaker. The last one of your kind to find me here was not a good man.]]

[[It's all right. From what little I know of what happened, you've got a right to be upset.]] Harry said. [[Salazar wanted you to protect the kids that came here, and he forced you into killing one.]]

Shass made a distinctly distressed sound. [[I would do anything to take that back]] She said. [[Is that why you do not look at me?]]

[[Part of it, yes. We weren't sure what sort of shape you'd be in after that. But even if you're ok, we can't exactly look at you because of your eyes.]]

Shass let out a thoroughly delighted laugh. [[Ahhh, young one. I see certain facts about my species have fallen out of common knowledge. Unlike all other snakes, we basilisks have working eyelids, to allow us control of our killing gaze. You and your companions are safe from me]]

"Harry?" Remus asked.

Harry quickly told him what Shass had said.

"Makes sense. Let me try ... "

[[I will do it]] Hissesh said, and Harry quickly cut Remus off by passing the offer along.

There was a moment's pause as Hissesh turned around, and then he let out a laugh. [[I am fine]]

"He's fine." Harry told the others, and then turned around. 

His jaw almost hit the floor when he got his first good look at Shass. She was enormous. At least sixty feet long, and thick enough that she'd only just barely fit through the pipe in the bathroom at this point. Her head was big enough to have allowed her to swallow Hagrid without dislocating her jaw. She was a deep forest green over most of her length, with a few lighter and darker patches here and there. Her eye was a pale green as well.

"Wait, I thought basilisk eyes were yellow?" Remus asked.

[[That is the effect of the eyelid]] Shass said, clearly having understood Remus.

"Evidently the lid changes the apparent color." Harry said. "If the eye is normally yellow, the lid might have a blue tint to it, so that there's a visual cue that the eyelid's covering the eyes."

"That makes sense." Remus agreed.

Harry was amused that both Severus and Minerva, both of whom were normally unflappable, had been stunned into silence by Shass' presence.

[[I take it the castle is not currently in danger, then?]] Shass asked. [[And may I have your names?]]

[[Ack, how rude of me.]] Harry said. [[No, the school's not in danger. I'm Harry Potter, the white owl is Hedwig, my familiar. The little snake is Hissesh. The man who spoke just now is Remus Lupin. The woman is Minerva McGonagall. She used to be Transfiguration teacher, Head of Gryffindor, and Deputy Headmistress, but she just became Headmistress. The man all in black is Severus snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House.]]

Harry's amusement upgraded to outright laughter when Shass got nose-to-chest with a stunned, wide-eyed Severus.

[[So you are the one who guides Salazar's chosen?]] Shass asked. [[It is a noble calling]]

It took Harry a minute to quit snickering and translate for Shass.

"It is indeed." Severus agreed, after giving Harry a sour look for his amusement at Severus' predicament.

[[And at a guess, you are hoping for a few ingredients to play with in your cauldrons]]

Again, Harry translated. Severus looked appalled at Shass calling potion creation 'playing in cauldrons'.

"It is most assuredly a great deal more than 'playing with cauldrons', you overgrown, delusional garter snake!" Severus snapped.

That got a delighted laugh from Shass. [[Ahhh, so he does have fangs after all. Provided you have a container that can hold it, I will let you have a bit of my venom and one of my old fangs]]

Severus looked thoroughly pleased by that. "I made sure that the containers I brought would be able to hold basilisk venom. Though I fear I underestimated the size necessary."

[[That isn't the only reason we're down here. The boy who was down here before? He's a man grown now, and has become ... even more evil than he was when he forced you to kill. He's got a bunch of followers that we're fighting against. We were hoping to take some of your shed skins, if they're still around, to make into armor for our people.]] Harry told Shass.

[[Of course! You may take all of it. There is quite a pile in my sleeping chamber.]] She said. [[I dragged them all there if I didn't shed in there, so that the tunnels remained unobstructed.]]

[[Speaking of tunnels and you shedding, how does that work?]]

[[The spells allow me to wake once a year for a few days, to shed and feed. There is a tunnel that leads into the forest, to allow me to hunt without risking coming on any humans. I go out at night to further reduce the risks. Once I've filled my belly and shed my skin, I go back to sleep for another year.]]

[[Wow. Neat.]] Harry told her, then turned to Remus and translated what she'd told him.

"I'll go and get the skins while the rest of you work out a safe way for Shass to donate her venom."

[[Tell him to avoid the far right corner, Harry. There is a small pile of my teeth there, that have broken off over the years. They are still dangerous.]]

[[Right, thanks for the warning]] Harry told her, and passed the warning on.

"Got it, Shass. I'll make sure to give that area a wide berth."

In the end, Minerva and Severus combined their skills to get the donated venom safely. Minerva transfigured one of the snake statues into long, low table that Shass could rest her head on comfortably. This got her chin up off the floor, and allowed them more room to maneuver. One of the shrunk-down vials that Severus had brought proved to be just large enough to fit over the tip of one fang when it was un-shrunk. Minerva transfigured a second statue into a shallow metal bowl to catch any drips. The metal wouldn't last long against basilisk venom since it was transfigured, but it would hold long enough to keep the venom off the floor.

Severus floated the vial into position once Shass had propped her head on the table and tilted her head slightly to one side, to keep the vial out of her mouth proper, where the outside of it might get coated with venom-laced saliva. All the finagling proved to be worth it, as they managed to fill the vial with venom without any unfortunate incidents.

Shortly after that, Remus called for assistance from the room behind the statue. Curious, Harry tagged along behind the others to go see.

The room was every bit as the one beyond, though this one had not been renovated. The stones under their feet radiated a soothing warmth that had Hissesh hissing in wordless satisfaction. The back wall of the room was taken up entirely with Shass' leavings. There was a literal hill about as tall as Harry that went almost the entire length of the back wall that was nothing but shed skins. The far right corner had a small collection of various-sized teeth and fangs, only about a dozen or so all told.

"Wow. That is a lot of shed skin." Harry said, eyeing the enormous pile.

"Fifty or sixty foot long snake, shedding yearly." Remus pointed out. "It's going to add up fast."

August 2, 1992 Undisclosed Location

Narcissa was in transports of glee. Voldemort had handed her the excuse she needed to get her claws on Barty. Voldemort wanted their children to be presented to him in a week's time, with no penalty to the ones who did not want to serve. It was a golden opportunity to get even. Better yet, she'd get even with him in front of the entire Death Eater assembly. All she had to do was play it like Draco had intended to serve Voldemort, but Barty had overstepped himself and used *that curse* on him, and now Draco refused to go anywhere near the Death Eaters or Voldemort. Between that and the fact that Voldemort knew her Head of House was set against him, Voldemort would be highly likely to do whatever it took to appease her. Gifting her Barty to torture as she saw fit would be a small price to pay.

"Set thy affairs, Crouch." Narcissa murmured quietly. "You have very little time left to live."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I changed the description of the areas leading to the Chamber. JKR Failed Biology Forever when it came to snakes, so I fixed it.


	14. Do Not Mess With Blacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone waiting for Barty's comeuppance, here it is. DESCRIPTIONS OF TORTURE AHEAD. Don't read section bracketed in bold if you're squeamish.

Do Not Mess With Blacks

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 9, 1992 Voldemort's HQ

The audience with Voldemort had been scheduled for just after lunch. What had once been a ballroom had been claimed for use as what amounted to a throne room for Voldemort's use. There was a gold throne-chair against one wall that looked virtually identical to the chair Dumbledore had used in Hogwarts. The throne sat on a dias about five feet up off the floor, affording Voldemort a view of the entire room over everyone's heads even when he was seated. The steps up to his chair were wide enough for people to kneel and stand on them comfortably. This was where his Inner Circle stood during meetings, and where each Death Eater knelt to greet him properly.

Or, had. The setup was identical to what Voldemort had permitted in the past. He intended to change that. However, he would have to go slowly. Too much change too quickly would cause problems. Certainly, a few of his followers would never truly respond to anything other than the choke-tight grip of terror he'd kept on them in the past, but most would be far better served not fearing for their lives and sanity every second they attended him. For this particular event, the Inner Circle was standing with the rest, as this was a ceremony, rather than a normal meeting. 

Fortunately, in a lot of ways his previous capricious behavior would stand him in good stead while making the changes. His followers were used to radical shifts in his mood, and would be inclined to presume that this was one of Voldemort's rare 'very good' moods.

The ceiling was crowded with candles, and Nagini was curled around Voldemort's seat, hissing commentary at the gathered Death Eaters to herself.

Fortune had smiled on them, and everyone involved in the raid had healed enough to attend this gathering. Voldemort was pleased to see most of the parents of of-age children with said child at their sides. Those children ranged in age from seventeen to nearly thirty, having not yet been of age when Voldemort had been disembodied during the attack on the Potters. Some parents had even brought their just-underage children with them, probably wanting to see if their children would be judged acceptable and of use in infiltrating Hogwarts, even if they were too young to be Marked.

Voldemort knew his skill in Legilimency would be getting a workout today, both to discover which of the children were truly loyal, and to discover their aptitudes and abilities and funnel them into the appropriate section of his rebuilding army.

"Avery, step forward." Voldemort had decided to go with alphabetical order. It would lessen any perception of favor in anyone's eyes.

Avery and his sons stepped forward, all three kneeling on the step just down from where Voldemort's seat rested. Voldemort reached forward and tipped their heads up one by one, scanning each of them.

Yes, even the already-marked elder. After a decade out of action, it was only prudent to know who fostered doubts and who did not, who might have switched sides. He could not presume that nothing had changed in his absence. He would find an excuse later to examine those who were either childless or only had children too far under age to be of any perceptible use.

It took only the briefest, gentlest of probes to ascertain that Avery remained loyal, and had brought his sons up to be likewise. They were somewhat less certain about it, but that was more due to never having known or served him than any lack of conviction in their cause. They would find their feet very quickly.

In truth, Voldemort didn't really expect to find anyone here had truly begun to question their loyalty. His ability with Legilimency was too well known for anyone shy of perhaps Severus to risk it ... and Severus had already made his true position known.

If he was honest with himself, it really didn't surprise him that Severus had switched sides. Severus' attachment to the Evans girl had been rather well-known. He had even begged for her life. That Voldemort had killed her would have soured Severus' opinion of Voldemort considerably.

He really needed to do some research as soon as he could. He needed to figure out why he'd come so unhinged in the latter half of his war against the Ministry, and how it was that his mind was so clear now. He strongly suspected the ritual to re-embody him had something to do with the latter, but the question was why.

He shook off the thoughts and refocused on the men on their knees before him.

"You have done well, Avery. Your sons will make fine additions to our group." He said. "You may rise and rejoin your fellows."

The elder Avery bowed low, forehead touching the top step, then pushed to his feet and backed up towards where the rest of the assembly stood watching.

Voldemort refocused on the two remaining men before him. "Do you come to me of your own free wills?"

"Yes, My Lord." They said, not quite in unison, but close enough.

"Do you wish to join my Cause, and become members of my Army?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes, My Lord." Again, not quite in unison, but close.

Voldemort nodded. "Bare your arms." Both men did so, having come prepared wearing robes with wide sleeves that were easy to push out of the way. Voldemort laid his wand hand on the left forearm of the elder of the two, and his other hand drifted down to touch Nagini. He didn't actually need to be in physical contact with Nagini to do the spells, but it was second nature to him to muddy the waters as to his abilities and their limits whenever he could.

[[Bind in body. Bind in soul. Bind in magic. Mine in whole. Seek to find, listen for Master to hear, call for obedience and loyalty dear]] Voldemort hissed. 

Beneath his hand, the Dark Mark took shape. Few, if any, of his followers realized the full import of that mark. It was the visual manifestation of his control of them.

He'd always been secretly amused that the parseltongue version of the spells used in binding his followers had ended up resulting in a rhyme of all things. And a mostly innocuous sounding rhyme at that. For all that, the set of spells used were anything but innocuous. The first three were the equivalent of the Vindico spell, and formed the base on which all the others rested. After all, a slave's owner could do as he willed with his property, could he not? Enslaving his followers so had enabled Voldemort to place the other spells, which would not have been possible otherwise.

The fourth spell on the list allowed Voldemort to track his Marked followers no matter where they were on the planet, and be aware of their physical and magical health. They could not hide from him if they betrayed him, and if they were endangered, he would know instantly. It also worked, far more limitedly, in the opposite direction, allowing his followers to sense where he was and apparate to him if he called them. The fifth spell allowed him, if he so desired, to eavesdrop on anything said by his Marked followers after they said a key word, in this case any version of his name or title. The final spell gave Voldemort limited direct control of his followers' actions, if he chose to exercise it, without having to expend the energy to use Imperio every time. It wasn't as strong as Imperio, but he generally didn't need something as strong as that spell to get a follower to do exactly what was required.

The actual Marking was painless, and activating any of the spells was likewise, though Voldemort had deliberately caused his followers pain when he activated the spells in the past. That was one of the things he had decided to change. Unless the spells were being activated to punish that person, there would be no pain. On the contrary, having any of the spells activated would be *pleasurable* for the follower. That was bound to make them far more agreeable and easy to work with in the long run, even if Voldemort found sex, lust, and its kindred emotions distasteful in the extreme personally. In accordance with that change of plans, Voldemort tripped the man's pleasure circuits as soon as he had emplaced the last control. Not enough to drive the man to release, but definitely enough to leave him ... affected.

The man, eyes blown wide with pleasure, bowed, touching forehead to step as his father had done, then slowly backed up, looking rather stunned and more than a little shivery. Voldemort turned his attention to the second son and repeated the entire process.

One by one, he called his followers and their children forward. Over and over again, he was dismayed. Oh, most of the children were as loyal to him as he could wish, but most of them were also little more than thugs, with only the dregs of cunning to be found in the far corners of their minds. There were a few jewels among the dross, but they were the exception rather than the rule. It was as if entire generations (as there were at least two present) had had all truly Slytherin qualities eradicated, despite the vast majority of them being Sorted into that House.

What in the name of hell had happened during his absence? Or were his own actions responsible for this deplorable state of affairs? Voldemort wasn't sure, but it was going to require fixing if he was going to have any true chance at winning. Now more than ever was he regretting Severus' loss. That man possessed a vicious, ruthless cunning that was truly admirable. It would probably be advisable to kill the man as soon as he could, but that was going to be quite the undertaking, and possibly best left to himself. Most of his follwers had been inclined to underestimate Severus during the first war due to his halfblood status. Underestimating an ally and teammate was deplorable, but doing so to an enemy was almost invariably lethal, and he could not afford to lose any of his better followers to pursuit of Severus, and they were the only ones who would stand even a shred of a chance.

He let the last of the lot resume their place in the assembly roughly two hours after he'd begun. His mind was a-whirl with plans to try to correct the worst of the problems he'd spotted. Unfortunately, he was about to discover a whole new problem, one big enough to give him a migraine.

Narcissa Malfoy took a half step forward from her place beside Lucius and knelt, head bowed, silently asking for permission to approach and speak.

Narcissa herself was not one of his Marked, but he was cognizant both of her importance to Lucius, one of his better followers, and the fact that she was a Black by blood, and thus someone he very much wanted to humor if at all possible.

"Rise, Narcissa, and approach." Voldemort told her.

Narcissa regained her feet and glided forward, kneeling on the appropriate step with delicate grace, head bowed respectfully.

"My Lord, I am grieved that my son is not present, this day. He was most anticipating serving as a spy for you in Hogwarts. As a year mate of the boy's, he could have been of inestimable value to you." Narcissa said.

Voldemort frowned slightly. He had a bad feeling about this. "What, then, has changed?" He asked.

Narcissa lifted her head, gifting someone (he couldn't tell precisely who) along the left-hand curve of the assembly with a lethal glare. "Bartemious Crouch Junior happened, my lord. He decided, in his infinite wisdom, that the only way he could possibly garner my husband's and my assistance in finding you and rendering you aid was to *enslave* my son."

**Oh, hells.** Voldemort came dangerously close to facepalming in full view of his entire army. "You know I cannot break that spell, Narcissa." He said after a few moments to regain his equilibrium.

"I am aware, My Lord. Draco's safety has been ensured, and the spell broken. Else I would not be before you now." Narcissa said.

Voldemort had suspected as much. He'd had to make the comment to be sure, though. And if Draco was safe, there was only one thing Narcissa could want of him. "Restrain him." He commanded, without looking at the others.

They instantly obeyed, grabbing at Barty. Barty had the wit to know he was in trouble the moment Narcissa told Voldemort what he'd done, but hadn't been able to try to make an escape, as he was in the front row of the assembly, the only portkeys that worked in their headquarters were ones that Voldemort made personally. Likewise, Voldemort had to adjust the wards personally to permit apparation into or out of the headquarters. That said, he didn't exactly go quietly.

It took a minute for a couple of the bulkier Death Eaters to wrestle Barty into submission, as they hadn't been given permission to hex him. Eventually, they managed it and dragged Barty before Voldemort.

"Barty. Is what Narcissa says true?" Voldemort asked. His tone made it clear he already knew it was the truth, but was asking for form's sake.

Voldemort was willing to give Barty this much, he didn't lie, nor did he try to grovel and beg forgiveness he probably knew wasn't going to come. "Yes, My Lord."

"I am ... most disappointed, Barty. Yes, most disappointed. Disappointed that you mistook the cleverness of Lucius and the others that remained free for cowardice. No, they did not remain free on my orders, but they had wit enough to realize that I would need a power base from which to work, once I returned, and that if all my followers were in Azkaban, I would have no such power base. They lied to the Ministry and remained free in order to provide me that base." Voldemort scowled at Barty. "All that would have been required to ascertain their true loyalties was a few drops of Veritaserum, Barty. You had to have known that. I am left to presume that you acted otherwise out of arrogance."

He glanced up at the others. "I realize that there are ... rivalries ... amongst us. Personalities clash, old family rivalries, and such things. In the past, I permitted squabbling among you to go largely unremarked. This is no longer going to be the case. If we are to win, we must be united. You must think and act as one. You must protect one another, regardless of what you think of your fellows. If someone offends you, bring the matter before me and *I* will settle it. If you suspect someone's loyalties, inform me and again, *I* will settle the issue. There will be no fighting amongst yourselves. And there most assuredly will not be any attempts at forcing a fellow follower to your will in any way, shape or form."

Voldemort regarded Lucius and Narcissa for a long moment. He had a major problem on his hands. He had zero intentions of keeping Barty from Narcissa's wrath. The problem lay in what to do after Narcissa's wrath had been sated. The odds the pair were or would remain loyal were very low. Unfortunately, if he killed them, Draco would become Head of the Family, not only depriving Voldemort of the Malfoy monetary resources (which was going to happen anyway) but also very likely putting the boy on the warpath, giving him a personal vendetta against Voldemort. A vendetta Voldemort wouldn't be in a position to stop or mitigate because the boy wasn't here tonight. As things stood now, Draco's grievance would be with Barty, who would be very messily dead before too long.

On the other hand, if Voldemort let them go (even obliviated of all knowledge they had gained about the Death Eaters and Voldemort's plans), they would go to Black and throw their money, power, and influence behind him, unless Voldemort was very, painfully careful in how he handled this.

There was really only one thing he could do.

"Lucius, step forward."

Lucius did so, kneeling next to his wife.

"This is my decree. Bartemious Crouch Junior's life is forfeit, to be taken as Luicus and Narcissa Malfoy please. Once that is done Lucius and Narcissa will swear oaths to never involve themselves in the coming war ... on either side. Lucius will then be removed from my service, and both of them will be obliviated of any knowledge they possess about us. They will be sent on their way. In return, I myself will take an oath to never attack them or their son, and to never send anyone under my command to attack them." Voldemort decreed.

Of course, it wasn't going to quite go in that order. Voldemort planned to confiscate Barty's wand, and transfer the parselmouth Vindico to Barty before the man was put to death however Narcissa decided. Once he was dead, Voldemort would snap Barty's wand, completely freeing Lucius. It would be a bitter blow, but the oath to keep them from participating in the war would at least keep them from joining Black, or even helping Draco, who was doubtlessly with Black already.

"You are kind and merciful, my lord." Lucius said, and there was real relief in his voice. He had likely expected to be Avada'd on the spot.

"His wand." Voldemort demanded. 

Immediately, one of the men holding Barty frisked him until his wand was discovered, and it was handed over. Voldemort carefully palmed it, to conceal the visual cue that the spell was being transferred when he broke Lucius' Mark. Again, the less people knew, the better.

He murmured the counterspells to everything save the parselmouth vindico first. Lucius, who had to have noticed something going on, never so much as blinked. Voldemort then transferred the vindico before turning to Narcissa.

"He is yours to do with as you please." He told her. "Provided neither you nor your husband leave this room. If you have need of something, it will be brought to you."

The sheer malice and hate in Narcissa's eyes made Voldemort quiver mentally. He did not envy Barty his fate. Narcissa was bound to be far more inventive than even he suspected. "My thanks, my lord." She said.

"You may both rise." He said.

They did so. Lucius retreated back to the line of Death Eaters, mostly to give his wife room to work, Voldemort suspected.

Narcissa stalked to the center of the open space between Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She drew her wand and began to draw runes on the floor. It took but a few moments for Voldemort to perceive what she was doing. She was creating what would be a temporary containment circle. Once the last rune was drawn, anything inside the circle would be unable to leave its confines until the circle was broken by the person who drew the runes. From the size of the circle, Narcissa was giving Barty just enough room to stand up with his arms out to his sides at full extension, and no more. Once she had all but the final rune drawn, she turned to the men holding Barty.

"Strip him and put him in the circle." She commanded.

They hesitated just long enough to glance at Voldemort, double checking that following her commands was the right thing to do before they complied, stripping Barty with a brutal efficiency, then frog-marching him to the circle. Narcissa petrified Barty just long enough to prevent him from escaping the circle while she drew the last rune. Once she had him locked in, she released Barty from the petrification and stepped back.

"You know." Narcissa said in a faux thoughtful/nice tone. "I'm actually slightly tempted to add a few runes to the circle to prevent anything from entering the circle, then let our Lord obliviate us right now and walk out. Let you starve to death and wallow in your own excrement as an object lesson why no one messes with a Black. Almost. But you hurt my son. Not once, but twice. You held him under a cruciatus-level pain spell for *ten minutes* one of those times. For that, you deserve to die in the most painful way I can devise. And I have had many months to contemplate my options."

Narcissa glanced over at her sister. "Bella, darling ... you wouldn't happen to still have that dagger, would you? You know the one I mean." She asked.

Fully half the Death Eaters inhaled sharply, because they knew which dagger Narcissa was talking about too. It was a dagger that Bella had been particularly fond of using during the early days of the first war, before her bloodlust had gotten the better of her. Goblin made, the blade was impregnated with a particularly nasty poison. This poison did not kill. It ate away at nerves and flesh slowly and mostly superficially, but extremely painfully. The wound, no matter how slight, would perpetually seep blood ... blood that carried the poison in it and affected any flesh it touched, so that the poison would begin to eat away at the untouched skin. The poison could not be counteracted except via a specific potion - one that was not generally kept onhand. The poison wasn't well known, or used much because it didn't kill, so St. Mungo's didn't keep the counter potion on hand. As a result, most of the people Bella had used the dagger on had suffered in rather extreme agony for days, and in a few cases, months before anyone realized what the problem was and fixed it. Not that receiving the counter potion would be possible anyway, in this case.

Bella gave her sister a toothy grin. "You're in luck, sister dear. I didn't have the dagger on me when I was captured. So yes, I still have it. And yes, you can borrow it." She walked over, pulling the dagger (still in its sheath) from a pocket of her robes.

Narcissa smiled. "Won't need it for long, Bella, but I appreciate the loan. I thought that might be a good appetizer. I've seen how people howl when you knick them with it." She took the dagger from her sister and turned to Barty.

She waved her wand at him, hitting him with a modified Petrificus the Death Eaters had been fond of using in the first war, and that she had learned from her husband. The spell had originally been created for (and was still in) use in Healing, to restrain a thrashing patient, or to keep a patient from moving and undoing a Healer's work when using a potion for that purpose wasn't possible. The spell rendered the victim incapable of moving, but did not force their body into the rigid, plank-like state the regular Petrificus did. Better still, it did not lock up the victim's jaw, allowing them to be capable of speech. Or, in the case of Death Eater victims, scream.

**SKIP TO NEXT BOLD TEXT POINT IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH**

Narcissa cocked her head slightly, then almost gently flicked the dagger, cutting Barty just at the hairline, where it would bleed a great deal, and better yet, pour over his face and possibly even into his eyes. She then returned the dagger to its sheath and handed it back to Bellatrix, who cackled a bit before she returned to her place in the lineup.

Barty's face began to contort in pain almost immediately, but he didn't make a sound. Narcissa smiled. "Oh, good. You're not going to be a wimp about this. More fun for me."

She aimed her wand at him and hit him with a hex. Barty's body immediately broke out in enormous boils. Narcissa aimed her wand again, and sent a gentle piercing hex at a large boil just over a certain very sensitive part of Barty's anatomy. The moment the boil lanced, it became clear that it had not been a normal boil. The liquid that drained from it immediately began to eat at Barty's flesh. Narcissa let it do so for a few moments before vanishing it. She then repeated the procedure on every boil on Barty's body, hesitating just long enough between boils to let the pain fade just a bit before moving to the next. By about the tenth or fifteenth boil, Barty lost the battle to keep silent and started to make strangled noises of pain. By the time Narcissa had lanced every boil on his body, he'd started screaming and had to be rennervated twice.

Narcissa then conjured a number of long, thin needles. These she pierced Barty's body with, careful to lodge the needles into nerve clusters. Then, she conjured a thin, exceedingly sharp knife and floated it into the containment circle. She cast a spell at Barty that slowed the blood still flowing from the scalp wound to a slow drip, and two more spells whose purpose remained unclear at that time. Then, using magic rather than her own physical hands (she didn't want to get his blood on her) she began to skin him alive with great care and attention to detail, removing each needle as she came to it. As she worked, she spoke over Barty's now-raspy howls of agony.

"I believe I shall preserve your skin and bring it to my son, so he can clothe a target dummy in it and pretend its you, since I am depriving him of his own vengeance by killing you." Narcissa said, speaking for the first time since she'd started. "I might even prevail upon our lord's potioneers to provide me with a potion to force you to regenerate your skin and flay you repeatedly so he can hex you in absentitia multiple times. But then again, that would be giving you an honor you don't deserve, to be remembered after your death."

The purpose of the two mystery spells became clear before long, as Barty never lost consciousness even momentarily during the flaying. His internal organs all stayed where they belonged as well, despite the loss of his skin. Once she had finished, she glanced over at Lucius.

"Darling, would you conjure a container large enough for him?" She asked.

Lucius did so, one eyebrow gone to his hairline. Narcissa floated the container into the circle, then dropped Barty into it. Then she cast one more spell, and the container began to slowly fill with a clear liquid. Narcissa released Barty from the paralysis spell. Barty, his voice now completely gone, flailed about in agony, which of course only made his situation worse.

"My dear ... if I might ask ... the liquid?" Lucius questioned.

"Mere seawater." Narcissa said. "Of course, in his current condition, it may as well be the strongest acid ever created."

She watched dispassionately as the water crept higher in the container. Eventually it got high enough that Barty, despite being skinned and half-mad with pain, started flailing about, trying instinctively to keep above the level of the water. Just when it seemed Narcissa was going to let him drown, she cast a bubblehead charm on him and let the water reach the top of the container.

She did nothing else until Barty's struggles had ceased. At that point, it was clear he was completely gone, mentally. Narcissa tsked quietly, and vanished the container and water from the circle before cancelling the spells keeping his bleeding minimal and his innards in place. Even at that, it took him a few minutes to finally die. Once he was dead, Narcissa banished his remains and erased the containment circle.

**END TORTURE SCENE**

Voldemort was rather impressed by Narcissa's display. She had not once (technically) resorted to an actual Dark spell, from what he had seen. Every spell she'd used had legitimate uses and were not considered Dark Arts - not even the spell to exchange the boils' liquid for acid. Acid conjuring was used frequently in metal working of all descriptions, and switching spells were taught at Hogwarts. The spell to slow bleeding was a Healing spell, as was the spell she'd used to keep his innards where they belonged.

"Truly impressive, Narcissa." Voldemort complemented her. He then snapped Barty's wand, in full view of everyone. "So that no part of him remains whole and of use." He said. "Now, step forward, and we shall deal with the last of this, and you will be free to go."

Narcissa and Lucius stepped forward. When they were about five feet from the steps to Voldemort's dais, and shoulder to shoulder, they abruptly disappeared with a quiet pop.

Voldemort roared in impotent rage.

August 3, Black Manor

"Sirius. Thank you for meeting me." Lucius said. "Voldemort wants everyone to bring their of-age children to be examined and Marked as appropriate."

Sirius nodded. "I'm guessing Narcissa is going to use that opportunity to get even with Barty?"

"Quite. We are also planning to ... use the opportunity to leave Voldemort's company. Or, Narcissa will be. She is not Marked, and will be able to make good her escape with help from Dobby."

"But you're Marked, and you don't think you'll be able to get away." Sirius said. He was half tempted to tell Lucius about Harry being able to break the Mark, but that wasn't really viable in this case. If they broke Lucius' Mark, he would not be able to go to the meeting, nor would Narcissa. Voldemort would know at once. "She and Draco will be well looked after. You have my word."

Lucius waved a hand. "I have no need for reassurances on that particular." He said. "We may disagree vehemently on most subjects, but I would have to be criminally blind and stupid to think you didn't take your duties seriously. I just felt you might need advance warning that they may become your responsibility so you could plan accordingly."

August 9, Black Manor

Dobby had watched carefully from the between place. He kept close to his old Master and Mistress, ready to get Mistress out of there the moment she looked to be in danger. He had argued with Master about leaving Master behind, but Master had eventually made it clear that there would be no hope for him.

Except ... there was. Master's Master broke the spells he had on Master. Dobby knew that meant that Master could escape too. As soon as the bad man broke the wand, Dobby had started shifting from foot to foot, planting himself beside his Mistress. The moment Master got in range of Dobby's grip, he grabbed hold of Master's sleeve and popped out of there.

Lucius collapsed into the nearest available chair when they appeared in Black Manor, trying not to tremble with both relief and fear. He was free from Voldemort. Completely. Unfortunately, it was entirely likely that Voldemort would try to hunt them down. He'd figure out how to deal with that. Later. Much, much later. Right now, he had more important matters at hand. Like his son.

Draco had clearly been warned about today's events, because he'd been pacing on the far side of the room. The moment they'd appeared, Draco had flung himself at his mother, clinging to her with desperate strength. Once Lucius managed to get his legs back under him, he joined them, for once forgoing dignity in the face of reuniting with a son he'd thought he'd never see again.

It took the three of them quite some time to calm down, but eventually they'd managed to retire to a large couch, Draco ensconced between his parents.

"What will we do?" He asked.

"Your mother and I will not be able to appear in public without extreme danger for some time." Lucius admitted. "You may well be required to find ... individual housing at Hogwarts. I fear the Slytherin dorm will not be safe for you."

"I have offered to allow him to reside in my rooms at the school." Severus said, walking in. "I am gratified to see you alive, Lucius. Though I find your heretofore unknown Gryffindor streak most distressing. Baiting Dark Lords?"

Lucius snorted. "And which of the people was doing exactly that for years, again?" He asked, giving Severus a pointed look. "Would it be possible to beg a resorting under the circumstances?" Lucius asked.

"I will enquire of those who can make that decision." Severus said. "In the meantime, do either of you require healing?"

"No. We escaped entirely unscathed, thanks to Dobby." Lucius said. "I will admit, he has proven to be surprisingly useful in this mess."

"House elves in general have proved to be extraordinarily useful in this conflict." Severus admitted. "You will find your belongings in the room next to Draco's."

"We'll head up shortly." Lucius told him.


	15. Explosion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out. It fought me for over two weeks, requiring several re-writes before I was happy with it.

Explosion

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 9, 1992 Potter Castle

The various members of the Black/Potter alliance had put the day's nervous energy to good use. Remus spent the time working on Harry's backlog of mail and managed to finish checking it for anything malicious just before lunch.

Harry and the other kids, except Draco, who'd been too worried about his parents to even think of concentrating on anything, had gone to the dueling chamber on the second floor with Sirius and Filius most of the morning. The twins had joined them as Severus was at Black Manor with Draco.

Sirius was off to one side of the dueling room working on recovering his physical stamina in between attempts at achieving a patronus again. He worked on that particular spell every few days, as the problem he had wasn't the power it took to perform it but the 'happy memory' bit. Given that he was constantly adding new, untainted memories to the pool of 'potentially useful' memories for the spell, it paid to try it frequently.

Filius had asked the kids to come to the dueling room as he had decided to introduce them to spell chains. At this point, they knew enough spells, and were able to perform them proficiently enough to make learning about spell chains worthwhile.

"I am going to introduce you to an advanced technique used in duels that you will use and build on as you learn more spells. They are called spell chains. The concept is simple enough - rather than firing off single spells with a break, however brief, between spells to start the next, you arrange the spells you wish to cast in such a way that one spell's wand movements flow instantly into the next spell's." Filius told them. "Like so."

Filius then demonstrated with two spells he knew the children could perform, going slow enough that they could see how the wand movements melded together. "This way, you waste neither time, effort, nor magic in the middle of a fight. The more spells you know, the more chains you can build for different effects, and even tailor them to your power levels."

"For instance, Harry and Neville have the magical strength to wield the most devastating of the power-hungry spells. The rest of you could chain together a number of less power-intensive spells, but achieve the same effect as that single power-hungry spell in roughly the same amount of time." Filius told them. "Spell chains have the secondary benefit of not giving your opponent much time, if any at all, to launch an offensive of their own. Thirdly, your opponents will expect a certain range of spells from you - the spells in the Hogwarts curriculum. That is part of the reason why we have spent so much time teaching you spells *not* in the curriculum. It will make you far more unpredictable. At the same time, your opponents will be rather predictable themselves, for the most part. Bellatrix LeStrange excepted, most Death Eaters stick to a fairly narrow range of spells."

Filius gave them a narrow-eyed glare. "I will be teaching you the wand movements for those spells. That way you will be able to recognize them in a duel. That will allow you to defend yourself appropriately, whether that means ducking and dodging or throwing up a shield. It will also allow you to guess at what will follow and plan accordingly if your opponent decides to use a spell chain themselves. That said, if I *ever* catch any of you performing the spells the movements belong to, you will *not* like the consequences. Have I made myself clear?"

Harry and the other kids all nodded emphatically. None of them really wanted anything to do with the Dark Arts anyway, but even if they had, getting on Filius' bad side was every bit as spectacular a bad idea as getting on Severus' bad side. If you wanted to live a long, pain-free life, you just didn't do that.

Just to be on the safe side, Filius didn't plan on telling them the incantations that went with the wand movements. For one, most of them (save the Unforgivables) would be performed silently, making knowing the incantation useless in terms of defense. And not knowing the incantation would make it more difficult for the children to pull the spells off themselves. It wasn't foolproof, because the kids could do research and figure out what spells the movements belonged to, but it was better than nothing.

But that would be later, down the line. They hadn't yet learned much in the way of counters to the Dark Arts spells the Death Eaters were likeliest to use. This wasn't because Filius and the others were being lazy or careless. The counters to those spells were complex, power-hungry, or both, and normally not taught until fourth or fifth year. However magically powerful some of the kids might be, it was foolish to attempt to teach them something that advanced without grounding them in the basics first.

Filius started them on learning to chain two of the spells they already knew. This was actually a bit more complicated than it sounded, as the kids would have to overcome the tendency to fire one spell, pause, then fire another. Fortunately, that habit was not as ingrained in any of them as it otherwise would have been had they been introduced to spell chains at the normal time in their Hogwarts careers - sixth or seventh year.

Harry picked it up first, which Filius had expected. Harry's intuitive approach to spell-casting made that sort of thing a lot easier for him that some of the others. The twins were hot on his heels, thanks to their generally unconventional approach to magic in general. Neville wasn't that far behind the twins in figuring it out, to Filius' surprise. But then, Neville's slowly-but-surely increasing levels of confidence were allowing him to pick up on things faster than he had the first half of his first year. Hermione, rather predictably, lagged behind. Filius strongly suspected that she would be the second most dangerous with the technique, behind only the twins, once she got the hang of it though. Her nearly encyclopedic and ever-growing knowledge of spells would facilitate her ability to chain spells together once she'd adapted to the technique.

They broke early for lunch, as much because of what they knew would be happening as anything else. The kids were all entirely too nervy at that point to be able to concentrate. Remus came in as they were finishing eating to let Harry know he'd finished with the last of the mail backlog. Harry promptly signed the form reply letters and sent them off, then did a bit of a jig for finally having gotten that tedious task completed. There was still new mail coming in just about daily, of course, but the backlog was done.

Sirius returned to the dueling chamber after lunch, when it became clear there wasn't going to be a fast resolution to the day's events.

"Narcissa is bound to be having way the hell too much fun taking Barty apart at the seams." Sirius said. "It's entirely possible it could take all day." Or even longer, if Narcissa was feeling particularly vindictive, but Sirius somewhat doubted that. 

She wouldn't want to test Voldemort's temper quite that much. And even if it didn't test his temper, her chances of escaping reduced the longer she hung about. Voldemort and his followers were generally egotistical enough to forget about or ignore things like House Elves, but the longer Dobby hung about, the greater his chances of being discovered and tattled on by any elves the Death Eaters had working for them. A free elf lurking about Voldemort's stronghold would raise all sorts of alarms, and there would go Narcissa's ability to escape.

The tension in Potter Castle kept ratcheting up all day, to the point where several tempers were getting a bit short. Shortly before dinner, Sirius came bouncing out of the dueling chamber in excessively high spirits.

"I did it! I finally did it!" He proclaimed, then aimed his wand. A few seconds later, a corporeal patronus that bore a striking resemblance to a werewolf was stalking around the room, clearly looking for trouble before it faded away.

Remus was more than slightly amused. "Really, Sirius? A werewolf?" He asked.

"What? It's not like we have any control over what shape they take!" Sirius shot back, looking entirely too amused.

Between his success with the patronus and the incredible tension behind the day, Sirius was ... more than a little wound up. As a result, he reverted to his Hogwarts-days behavior. Which is to say, he was being an idiot, a goof, and started pranking everyone in sight with a fine disregard for anything resembling sense.

Severus returned from Black Manor just after dinner. He was wound tight in his own right after having had to deal with an understandably high-strung and stressed-out Draco all day.

The result was inevitable. And explosive. Literally.

Sirius had either been lying in wait for Severus or had possessed uncannily good timing. Either way, he managed to be in the entrance parlor when Severus returned to the Castle. Sirius hit Severus with something the second he came through the fireplace. The enraged roar Severus let out brought pretty much everyone running.

Harry and Remus, who had both been looking for Sirius, piled into the room first. Harry's first thought was that Sirius had a death wish, because pranking Severus at all seemed like a very, very bad idea to him. Hoisting the man aloft by an ankle like that ... well, Harry had a feeling that Sirius was damn lucky that Severus was either so angry he wasn't thinking straight at all or his wand was somewhere he couldn't get to it dangling in the air that way. Otherwise, Harry was pretty sure he'd be minus a godfather.

Remus clearly recognized the spell, because he was very quick to get Severus down. Unfortunately, it was clearly WAY too late to keep things from going pear-shaped.

Severus struck like a snake the second he was released from the spell. Sirius got blasted halfway across the entrance parlor by the first spell Severus flung at him. Within seconds, the two were legitimately trying to kill each other, vicious no-holds-barred spells flying at each other. All Harry could do was duck into a corner and shield himself, staring at the battle with wide eyes. He'd known the two men really didn't like each other, but he hadn't realized it was quite this bad.

Fortunately for everyone, Filius arrived just as the firefight started. He and Remus immediately set to work trying to contain and separate the combatants, with Remus focused on Sirius and Filius on Severus. With Severus and Sirius so concentrated on each other, they weren't able to react in time to avoid attacks from another quarter. It only took about a half-dozen spells from Filius and Remus to get the fight stopped.

Filius' goblin blood was showing a bit by the time they'd gotten both men unarmed and restrained. He was glaring fit to kill at them both, teeth bared in an expression that was anything but friendly.

"What is the meaning of this?" He fairly roared. "I thought you were grown men, not blind, immature, childish idiots!"

And that was when the yelling officially started.

Severus gave Filius a jaundiced glare. "This." He snarled. "Is about that flea-bitten cur." The look he shot Sirius was positively homicidal.

"Shut up, Snivellus." Sirius snapped back. While he didn't look homicidal, he wasn't all that far from it. "It's got nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact you can't let go of a grudge!"

"A grudge I have a right to bear!" Severus yelled. "Especially against you!"

"I was a kid, for god's sake!"

"A child willing to commit murder!" Severus snapped.

That accusation made Harry's eyes go wide. It was some small comfort that Filius looked just as startled.

"What? What's this?" Filius demanded. "What are you talking about?"

Severus glowered at Filius. "It does not surprise me you were not in the know." He admitted, somewhat grudgingly. "There was an ... incident ... our fifth year, near the end of the year. You may recall there was some ... separation between Potter, Lupin and the mutt."

Filius hesitated a moment, clearly thinking back, then nodded. "Yes, I do remember that." He admitted. "I only remarked on it because they had been so unfailingly close up to then. It seemed unusual for them to be at odds."

Sirius interrupted at that point. "As edifying as this might be, we should talk about it later." He said.

Severus, on the other hand, was having none of it. "What's the matter, mutt? Ashamed to let Harry find out the truth?"

"What truth? That you were a greasy, grungy, Dark little bastard as a kid?" Sirius snapped. "You knew more Dark spells than half of Slytherin House as a first year!"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Truly, your lack of intelligence and inability to think is stunning, mutt. My mother was a Prince. Of course she only had Dark magic books! But I was raised Muggle, you twit. I may have known the incantations, but I could no more perform them than you could at that age."

"We're getting off track." Filius snapped. "Severus, what was the significance of the distance between Potter, Lupin, and Black, and you accusing him of attempted murder?"

Harry glanced at Remus and frowned. He didn't look so good at the moment. He was white-faced and withdrawn. Remus was also shooting Harry a concerned look, but he wasn't trying to stop the tale-telling, so evidently he had decided that Harry needed to know what this was about for whatever reason.

Severus looked as if he almost relished telling the tale. "Lupin was constantly missing classes." He said. "I had become suspicious about it, and the claimed excuses. More intriguing, I noticed that Potter, Black and the rat were always tired themselves the days Remus was missing that year. It piqued my interest and I attempted to tail them to find out what was going on. Unfortunately, one or more of them figured out I was trying to follow them, and Black decided to do something about it. He encouraged me to go to the Whomping Willow on a full moon."

Severus snorted. "I was suspicious, but I went anyway. Imagine my surprise when I was confronted with Lupin in his transformed state. Had it not been for Potter, things would have ended rather badly that night. We got into a yelling match that drew Hagrid to the Willow, and he dragged us to Dumbledore." Snape's expression twisted angrily. "Dumbledore swore me to silence, forbidding me to ever speak of what I had discovered that night, and forced Black to apologize. Insofar as I am aware, that was the end of it. Black suffered no further consequences save the disfavor of his compatriots. To this day, he seems to consider it a mere over-the-top prank rather than the double homicide attempt it was in fact."

All Harry could do was stare in horror at Sirius. "Is that ... " He swallowed and tried again. "Is it true?"

"Yes." The answer came from Remus, not Sirius.

"But ... why?" Harry asked. "Why would you ... what logic ... " He trailed off, unable to come up with a coherent sentence. Mostly because horror was turning to anger the more he thought about it. "So because he was ... " Harry flung a hand. "Different. Greasy, dirty, bad, whatever it was you were thinking ... it made it *right* to harass him?" As the anger gained ground, he began to be able to spit out full sentences.

Remus was bright enough to see where this was probably going. Unfortunately, he didn't think there was a way to derail it. All Remus could do was try to keep Harry calm enough that he didn't have an accidental magic episode. There was no chance of stopping him from saying what he was working up to - if Remus stopped it now, it'd just come out later, and possibly in a far worse way. Better to lance the wound now, than let it fester. Clearly, Hedwig was of the same mind as he was, because she was keeping remarkably silent - probably aware that any racket from her would divert Harry's attention, which would ordinarily be fine, but right now not so much.

Likewise, Filius smelled trouble, and flicked his wand as unobtrusively as he could manage, casting a clear shield around the room and readying himself just in case things *literally* blew up. Really, the only people in the room who weren't aware that all hell was about to break loose were Harry, Severus, and Sirius. All three because they were too upset to be thinking clearly at the moment. Certainly, if they'd been thinking clearly, Sirius would have seen the trap and not walked into it so willingly.

"He deserved it!"

The atmosphere in the room changed so abruptly it took Remus aback. Far from exploding in rage like he'd half feared, Harry abruptly shut down, face going blank and expressionless. 

"I see." Harry said. His tone was so flat that even Severus and Sirius noticed, abruptly eyeing Harry worriedly.

Harry held out his arm. Hedwig, chirring worriedly, immediately swooped over and landed, sidling up his arm to his shoulder and nuzzling his cheek. Wordlessly, Harry marched to the fireplace and, movements jerky, fished some floo powder out of the jar. He flung it into the fire with far more force than was required.

"Hogwarts!" Harry barked, and then he was gone, leaving chaos in his wake.

"What the hell?" Sirius asked, looking bewildered.

Remus eyed the fireplace for a moment, then sighed. "Brilliantly done, Sirius. You just more or less told your godson he deserved the treatment he suffered in the Muggle world."

"No I did not!"

"Yes you did." Remus snapped. "He was different from the Dursleys, so they hurt him. His cousin as well, if Bill Weasley's report of the situation at that house is to be believed." The malicious spells would have ensured that. "From what we have discovered, everyone thought him a miscreant at best and a future lifelong resident of prison at worst, based merely on gossip and his appearance. Seeing the parallels yet?" Remus nodded pointedly in Severus' direction.

Sirius blinked, looked at Severus, then at the fireplace, before turning back to Remus, his expression mulish. "It's not the same thing!"

Remus lost his temper at that point, and slapped Sirius - hard - then stood there for a second, hands curled into fists before he stomped out of the room in order to keep himself from doing far worse than a hard slap.

Filius, who'd stayed out of the latter half of the arguing, finally spoke up again. "I think you have some thinking you need to do, both of you. I strongly recommend neither of you approach Harry until either he calms down or you come to your senses, whichever happens first." He said. "Personally, I'll not be holding my breath for the latter."

Then he too took his leave, leaving behind two somewhat confused, thoughtful and resentful men.

August 9, Hogwarts

Harry more or less fell out of the fireplace when he arrived at Hogwarts. He wasn't normally so graceless - he'd gotten enough practice now to get the hang of coming out of the floo without kissing the ground - but he'd been too upset to think straight.

Minerva eyed him from her spot behind what was now her desk. "Harry?"

"Can I ... can I stay here a few days?" Harry asked.

Minerva frowned. "That would be up to Hogwarts, but I doubt she'd say no to you." She said. "Whatever has happened?"

"Sirius and Severus got into a fight." Harry said tightly. "They ... said things. I'd really rather not talk about it right now."

Minerva made a face. "Oh dear. I see. I wondered when this would happen."

Harry gave her a look. "You knew?"

Minerva sighed. "Yes, I did. Unfortunately, it was not my tale to tell."

Harry nodded, understanding. "Yeah, well, I really don't ... I need to be away from them both for a bit, and since they're there ... "

"You came here. Quite understandable, Harry. " Minerva said.

"Go on up to Gryffindor Tower, my Heir." The Hat said from its spot on the shelves behind the desk. "The dorm room you'll be using this year will be waiting for you."

"Thanks, Hogwarts." Harry said, and then left the Headmistress' office.

Harry deliberately didn't think until he was in the Gryffindor dorm room. Once he'd sat down, Hedwig started grooming his hair.

//I'm sorry you had to find out about that.// She told him

//I'm not.// Harry snapped angrily. //I knew there was bad blood between them, but not why. It's for the best I found this out. I should have known better.// 

He wanted to pace - or better yet, hex things until he got his anger back under control, but that was a little hard to do with Hedwig trying to preen him. Which was probably why she was doing it, the manipulative little featherhead!

//I heard that!// Hedwig shot back, sounding more amused than angry at him for his name-calling. //It's part of my job to help you calm down when you're upset. Now, would you care to explain that 'should have known better' comment?//

Harry gave her a dirty look, because her tone said all too clearly that she knew exactly what he'd meant, but that she wanted him to say it himself anyway.

//You know what I meant!//

//Humor me.//

There followed a short staring match that Harry was destined to lose (and he'd known that before he started, but he did it anyway). Harry finally caved after a minute or so.

//Fine, whatever. I should have known better than to think my situation would improve, ok? Sure it's been nice up to now, but how long before he starts giving me shit the way he did Severus?//

//There is a big difference ... //

//Don't even go there with that// Harry snapped back. //Me being family doesn't mean shit.//

Part of Harry knew he was being completely unreasonable. That part of him knew that Sirius had never so much as raised his voice at Harry, never mind something worse than that. That part of him also knew that Sirius never would hurt Harry the way the Dursleys had.

But there was a far larger part of him. The part that had been trained for a decade to expect only the worst - to expect humiliation, pain and neglect from the people in charge of his care. That part of him was shrieking warnings and not exactly listening to common sense or logic. Given that that part of him had kept him alive through the abuse, it made it rather difficult to ignore.

Which would explain why he got a none-too-gentle peck on the side of his head from Hedwig in admonishment. //You listen to me, Harry-chick. It is entirely different. No, it's not logical that it would be, but no one ever said people were logical. Sirius sees you as family, and he would never, ever deliberately hurt family. Accidentally, yes. Deliberately, no. Not only that, the bullying he did with Severus happened years before you were born, when he was a child himself. It is entirely possible - and even likely - that he has changed since then. He certainly showed no desire to bother Severus until today. You have every right to be upset that he was like that as a child, but presuming that he would turn that on you is a few leaps too far.//

Harry sighed and glowered at Hedwig. //I hate it when you talk sense, you know that, right?// He groused.

That got him an amused crackle. //I have picked up on that, yes.// She told him.

He reached up to stroke her. "I suppose you think I should go back?" He asked, speaking aloud for the first time in their little conference.

//Hardly. Those two looked mad as wet cats still when we left// Hedwig pointed out. //They need to clear the air between them, and you don't need to be there for that. You can floo-call Remus in the morning and see what the atmosphere is like, then decide from there. And you can get him to send along some clothes if it looks like it's going to take that pair a while to settle things.//

Harry snorted. "Oh, clothes. Good point. I was rather too angry to think of things like that." 

He was still angry, but it had already lost the vicious edge it had started with thanks to Hedwig. Yet again he found himself wondering just what his life would have been like without her, and being deeply grateful he'd never find out, because there was no way it would have turned out as good as this.

He spent the next hour or so showering her with affection and attention, which she basked in. Truth be told, Harry reveled in it too. Opportunities to spend concentrated time with just the two of them had been fairly thin on the ground most of the summer, thanks to lessons and other events that had set them on their ears again and again. The mutual petting and preening had the side benefit of calming Harry down a lot faster than he'd have been able to manage on his own. Eventually, he dozed off on the couch. Hedwig stayed on his shoulder until a house elf appeared to ease him into a more comfortable position and put a blanket over him, then moved to the back of the couch to watch over him as he slept.

August 9-10 Potter Castle

Sirius and Severus recovered enough to stomp off, both of them ignoring each other again, though this time, at least on Sirius' part, it was a far more thoughtful silence than it had been previously.

Truth be told, Sirius hadn't really ever had the time to ... think about his Hogwarts days in a more mature light. He'd been all of twenty-one when he'd been thrown into Azkaban, and that was hardly an age known for its maturity even at the best of times. Nor had Azkaban been conducive to growing up. He'd been far too invested in just staying sane to spare any time, energy, or thought to anything else. Taking over as Lord Black, while being an 'adult' thing to do, had not required him to take a good, hard look at his Hogwarts days in a critical, adult frame of mind. Amidst all the other chaos and mayhem, hating Severus had been something familiar and almost comforting. Oh, he'd been forced to admit that Severus wasn't quite what he'd seemed to be in Hogwarts, but Sirius had to admit that he had continued to think of Severus largely in that light.

Sirius was honest enough with himself to admit he would probably never like Severus. The habit of hating him was far too ingrained at this point - not to mention it was probably mutual, which would make any attempt at friendship doomed to failure.

That, however, wasn't really the point at the moment, was it? The point was whether or not he'd stepped over the line from pranking to bullying - and if that whole Willow mess was as bad as Severus liked to paint it.

Sirius spent most of that night and the next morning thinking back on those days. He got side-tracked repeatedly by the whole 'he deserved it' line of thought, which was rather insistently burrowed into his mind. Unfortunately, the more Sirius poked at those memories, the more he was forced to admit that there was no basis for that assumption. Yes, Severus had known Dark spells - but so had the members of every Dark family - himself included. They'd all been taught a laundry list of nasty spells - at least the theory and incantations anyway, since most of them were well beyond the power level of an eleven year old, never mind someone younger than that. Based on that criteria, Sirius should have been tormenting the entirety of Slytherin. Yet he had focused on Severus as a target.

The next excuses on the list made him cringe. Mostly thanks to Harry, since he'd seen what Harry had been forced to survive. Yes, Severus had been greasy and dressed in raggedy clothes - but that was definitely not an excuse to harass him. It should have invited at worst neutrality from Sirius, rather than antagonism. Likewise, bitching about Severus hexing him and needing paybacks didn't really wash, because Severus was invariably retaliating for previous attacks or defending himself from a current one. Sirius could count on both hand the number of times Severus had initiated an unprovoked attack on any member of the Marauders in seven years.

Now, about the Willow episode.

That one took Sirius a while. Mostly because he didn't see Remus' condition as ... well, anything to be concerned about. Oh, he knew people considered werewolves to be the scum of the earth. He also knew all there was to know about werewolves - probably more than most so-called experts knew. The problem lay in the fact that Remus had never been a threat to Sirius or anyone else for that matter. He'd made a concerted effort from day one to be as little a danger as possible. Thanks largely to that, Sirius had gotten a somewhat skewed view of werewolves in his head. In his mind, there had never been so much as a sniff of danger, because Remus would never attack anyone for any reason.

Sirius' brief stint fighting in the war - and clashing with the likes of Fenrir Greyback and his followers - hadn't happened until long after the Willow incident, and even then those encounters hadn't managed to unseat the rather odd blinders Sirius'd had on as regarded Remus.

Even now, the objection of 'but Remus would never' was almost instantaneous. Sirius had to mentally slap himself a few times. Because *Remus* would never, no, but the werewolf wasn't Remus. The werewolf was an insane Dark creature that wanted to turn and/or eat every human it could get its teeth into. As a kid, Sirius had more or less refused to acknowledge the difference between the two, but as an adult, he could no longer allow himself to be so blind. Without wolfsbane, Remus on a full moon was no different than any other werewolf without wolfsbane. And in that light, conning anyone into sniffing around the Willow and the tunnel to the Shack had been ... horrifyingly unconscionable.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, once he'd gotten that far in his thinking, Severus was right. If Remus had managed to get a hold of Severus that night, the odds of it ending up with both boys dead would have been insanely high. Remus would have been dead regardless - either the Ministry would have executed him or he'd have taken his own life in horror at having killed or turned someone. Severus would either have been a badly-maimed werewolf or dead as well.

It was dawn by the time Sirius had wrestled his way through all that thinking. He glowered at the windows before he pulled his drapes open and collapsed on the bed. He doubted he'd get any sleep today, not with his head still churning away, but he wished he had gotten some. Trying to apologize to Severus without a few hours' sleep under his belt was not going to be any fun. And then he had to deal with Harry.

Oh, joy. Being an adult SUCKED.


	16. Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again ... apologies. My muse REALLY didn't like having to deal with antagonistic Severus and Sirius. Seriously. Yeesh.

Dragons

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 10, 1992 Romania

The last month since his first attempt to fly with his two-legs had been great fun for Seren. His two-legs made it possible for him to take one of them with him every day. They'd even come to him, fairly early on, with an odd collection of stuff that smelled slightly of prey. This they put around his neck at the base, then sat on it. It had only taken a couple flights for Seren to figure out the thing let the two-legs hang on when he flew. This he approved of whole-heartedly, though he still refused to fly fast or do anything fancy for fear of hurting them. He didn't think such tiny beings could be very sturdy at all. The flights he took them on were also generally short - usually no further than the distance between his nest and the hunting grounds the two-legs arranged for the dragons in the area. Seren really didn't need to fly anywhere else, so he didn't see the need to go elsewhere, even to humor his two-legs

The Romanian preserve, like all the other preserves, had a marked, noticeable ranking of the dragons. The closer to the human settlement and human-tended hunting grounds a nest sleeping spot was, the younger the dragon that used it. The younger dragons had been, in the past, by far the most willing to tolerate humans in their general vicinity, since they'd had no negative associations with humans. They had also benefited from the presence of the humans in that the rare antagonistic modern dragon and predatory Ironbellies refused to get anywhere near humans, who weren't shy about fighting back against a marauding dragon.

Because of this, Seren had been largely unaware of the fact that the General had set up camp on the far edge of the preserve. He had also been lucky in that his visits to the hunting grounds had never coincided with hers, nor had she flown close enough to his sleeping area for him to spot her. That ignorance was about to change.

Midway to the hunting grounds, a great shadow came into Seren's peripheral vision. Seren had never seen an Ironbelly before, but some part of him recognized that particular size and shape of shadow as belonging to something dangerous. Fear flooded him ... not just for himself, either, but for the two-legs currently riding him. He twisted, dove, and took off at top speed, caring nothing for anything save getting as far away from the danger as he possibly could.

For reasons that would only ever be known to herself, the General followed. The result was a frantic, at least for Seren, scramble through the mountain passes trying to evade the bigger dragon - who refused to be shaken off. Seren could hear his two-legs yelling in fear too, which just spurred him on. Or, he thought it was fear, at least at first. After a little bit, when Seren stopped panicking and started paying attention, he realized the shouting wasn't panic.

It was move-words. The things the two-legs said to get him to move his wings and such. Not all of it was move-words, but Seren heard them a lot. Like, every time he adjusted how he was flying. After a bit, Seren noticed that some of the words were matching what he was doing.

Maybe the two-legs was trying to help? Because the time when the words didn't match what Seren was doing, the two-legs had the tone in his voice the two-legs had used to use before he understood the words and what the two-legs wanted. Experimentally, Seren changed direction mid-move to obey the next move-word. He got a jubilant shout and a pat on the neck. Well, that was proof enough for Seren. Maybe the two-legs knew a place to go to get away from the big dragon. He *was* the oldest of the two-legs that worked with him. He would have to know the area better than Seren himself did, at least. Seren hadn't explored much, after all, and was only a few years old.

He followed the move-words, and about five minutes later, he spotted what he thought the two-legs was trying to lead him to A cave high on a mountainside. The mouth of it was way too small for the bigger dragon to get through - Seren just hoped it was big enough for all of him to fit. He landed and scrambled inside. And the two-legs was officially the best. The cave was plenty big enough to fit all of him. He even had enough room to turn around and face the entrane, which would let him flame the bigger dragon if it stuck its head in the cave entrance. And he was far enough back that he didn't think the bigger dragon could reach him to bite him.

(_)(_)(_)

Everyone on Seren's team had gotten multiple chances over the last few weeks to ride along on one of Seren's flights. Heck, Seren seemed to get as much of a kick out of taking them for a fly as they got out of flying with him. Still, they'd made no real progress on controlling where they went - Seren was still very much in charge of that.

Until today. Jeffery would later be grateful that it had been him aboard Seren when it all happened. He'd been a tamer for a long time, all of it at the Romanian preserve, so he knew the place really well. Also, he was somewhat less excitable than the younger guys on the team. Even at that, he'd kind of needed new pants there for a bit when the General came out of nowhere and started following them. For a minute there, he thought the General was hunting Seren and he was in real danger of becoming a dragon snack.

Seren obviously agreed with the whole 'being hunted' thing because he took off like a bat out of hell. He twisted, dove, dodged and jinked through the sky, pulling moves and speeds he'd refused to use with a human on his back up to now. Once Jeffery had stopped panicking, he'd taken advantage of the situation. He put a Sonorous on himself and started calling to Seren. He used the directions he could when Seren used them, and tried to coax the frightened dragon into going somewhere specific at every other opportunity. Jeffery knew of a number of currently unoccupied caves that they could use as refuges - all too small for the General to get into, but big enough to hold Seren comfortably. He honestly didn't think Seren would listen - he was too panicked for that - but he had to try.

And miracle of miracles, about fifteen minutes or so into their panicked flight, Seren abruptly changed course ... following one of Jeffery's calls that was contrary to what Seren was actually doing. Jeffery whooped and gave him a pat, then tried it again. Seren followed his lead again. Jeffery was strongly tempted at that point to kiss the General (whom he had realized by that point wasn't hunting Seren) for being the catalyst that allowed them to bridge the gap between moving on the ground on command and moving in the air on command. Jeffery quickly guided Seren to a nearby cave, one with a narrow entrance but a fairly good-sized cavern about ten feet past the opening. Once it got into the range of Seren's vision, he headed straight for it, landing and scrambling inside, then turning to face the entrance. His sides were heaving, but Jeffery honestly couldn't tell if that was from exertion or preparation to flame if the General stuck his head in the door.

Now that they weren't moving, Jeffery fired off a patronus message, so the rest of the team didn't freak out about him and Seren going missing. They'd likely be here a while before Seren felt safe leaving. Jeffery then started trying to calm Seren down, patting him and speaking to him in a soothing tone of voice.

It was full dark before Seren showed any signs of wanting to leave. By then, Jeffery had dismounted to take care of a few thing and stretch his legs. Once Seren started peering out of the entrance of the cave, though, Jeffery quickly got back aboard and buckled in. Today was the first time their saddle design had actually gotten a real test, and Jeffery was understandably thrilled that it had been up to the task.

It took Jeffery another ten minutes to convince Seren to leave the cave and head back. Even at that, Seren flew incredibly low and incredibly fast, clearly wanting to stay where he, with his green hide, would be all but impossible to spot, especially in the dark, and get home as fast as possible. The rest of the team was waiting for them when they landed, and converged on them to make much of Seren and reassure themselves that both were unharmed by their little misadventure. Charlie had even thought to bring a cow - stunned insensible, of course, as it never would have come here of its own free will, not with the area smelling of dragon - for Seren to eat. Seren had been quite pleased with that and had made very short work of his meal.

(_)(_)(_)

August 10, 1992 Hogwarts

When morning arrived, Harry was still upset, and when he floo-called Remus, Remus made it clear that Sirius and Severus were still very much at odds. They hadn't gone near each other since Harry had left.

"It's going to have to be Sirius that makes the first move on this one." Remus told Harry. "Granted, Severus fought back every bit as viciously as he was capable of, but Sirius was the one that started the problems between them. I doubt that Severus would have done more than the normal Slytherin heckling of Gryffindors if Sirius and James hadn't targeted him the way they did." He made a face. "And that I let happen, even when I was a prefect. I've my own apologies to make in that quarter."

Harry had nodded, then had Remus send Toker with some of his clothes and books so that he could stay at Hogwarts a while in relative comfort.

Toker arrived a few minutes later with a small trunk. "Is Master Harry wanting anything else?" Toker asked.

From the look on his face and tone of his voice, Harry strongly suspected that Toker was actually asking if Harry wanted Sirius and Severus to get short shrift from the house elves in revenge for apparently driving Harry from his own home. Harry was more than a little touched by that.

"Thanks but no, Toker. I appreciate the offer though." He said, deciding to speak directly to the suspected cause of the offer.

Toker sighed, then nodded. "Very well, Master Harry. Call if you needs me." And he popped back out.

Harry gave an amused snort and then walked over to the chair Hedwig had appropriated as her perch in the common room. "Well, obviously the elves like me."

//And why shouldn't they?// Hedwig wanted to know. //You're quite sweet to them. Of course they're going to like you.//

Harry let out an amused snort. "Well, I better get washed up, breakfast will be soon." 

He grabbed some clean clothes out of the small trunk and headed upstairs to the bathroom off the second years' dorm room. That bathroom was normally shared by the first through third year boys, so it was a bit of a treat to have it to himself. Fifteen minutes later, freshly washed and dressed, he walked back out, chucking his dirty clothes into the hamper at one end of the dorm room. He trotted back down the stairs and held out an arm to Hedwig.

"Let's go see who all's here." He said. Hedwig made herself at home on his shoulder, preening his hair briefly, and they headed down to the Great Hall.

It turned out to be not many people. Minerva, of course, and Pomona, who was the new Deputy. Poppy, Hagrid and Filch were there too. That was it. Filius, from what Harry knew, ought to have been here as well, but he was either not up yet, off visiting the goblins, or at Potter Castle banging heads together.

"Hello, Harry, Hedwig." Minerva greeted them when he walked in. "Have a good sleep?"

"Yeah. Thanks again for letting me stay. Looks like I'll be here for a couple of days." Harry said. Hedwig crackled her own greeting.

Minerva sighed. "Hardly surprising. Those two are quite stubborn."

Harry couldn't help the bark of a laugh. "You don't say?"

That got him a look that was equal parts cross and amused at his sass.

Harry decided to sit down by Hagrid for breakfast. Hagrid gave him a beaming grin in greeting. "Hello there, Harry. Whyn't you come down to my hut later, and you can tell me all about the bits of your summer I missed, eh?"

Which was about as subtle as Hagrid got, really. Harry figured that Hagrid wanted to talk about (and possibly visit) Norbert, something that Harry was not at all opposed to. He hadn't seen Norbert since school had ended, and he kind of missed the little guy.

"Sure, Hagrid. So much has happened I'll have loads to tell you." Harry said. It was even the truth. So much had happened since school let out there was no way that Hagrid knew all of it.

//I wonder if we should fess up about Norbert to Minerva?// Harry asked Hedwig.

//You probably should. Norbert won't stay hidden for long. Someone is *going* to notice a dragon flying about sooner or later. We're just lucky he hasn't tried his wings out yet or the jig would already be up.// Hedwig pointed out.

//Good point. I'll talk to her later today.// Harry said.

It was actually very amusing to see the teachers outside of the context of actual teaching. Oh, Minerva and Filius had been quite informal at Potter Castle, but they'd still largely been in teaching mode, and Harry and the others had responded accordingly.

Here, with it just being them, everyone had seemed to let their hair down. Even Filch seemed to be a bit less cranky, though he still had a sour expression on his face. At one point, Minerva, Poppy and Pomona, who had been sitting together, actually started *giggling* about something (they were too far down the table for Harry to hear their conversation). Harry had been hard put to not stare. Seeing Minerva especially, who had always come across as stern and strict and rarely smiled giggling like a schoolgirl was jarring.

Eventually, he and Hedwig had eaten their fill of breakfast, and followed Hagrid out of the castle and into the forest. Harry, unsure if Norbert would remember him after several months' absence, and remembering how disgruntled Seren had been at the presence of strangers, stayed behind Hagrid just in case.

He needn't have worried. Roughly two seconds after Hagrid opened the big door on Norbert's shelter, Norbert was prancing around Harry and making noises that were unmistakably happy ones.

For himself, Harry just stared for a minute. The last time he'd seen Norbert, he'd been roughly six feet long and his shoulder had come up to Harry's chest. Two months later, and he'd nearly doubled in height and length ... being roughly ten feet long and his shoulder now being over Harry's head.

Harry had known, of course, that Ridgebacks grew incredibly fast. Heck, he'd seen Norbert go from roughly a foot long and half that tall to chest high in roughly three months ... but he'd been there for all of it, and seen Norbert regularly, so it had sort of snuck up on him. Seeing the difference after a two-month absence really drove home how fast they grew.

From what Charlie had told them, the explosive growth would continue for another month, at which point Norbert ought to be roughly three-quarters his adult size. At that point, the growing would slow down, allowing Norbert to start trying his wings. Until the six month point, Ridgebacks grew too fast to be able to fly, as their size and muscle mass was changing radically from one week to the next, which made coordination all but impossible.

Once Norbert calmed down a little, Harry was only too happy to pet him.

"He sure has grown in the last few months." Harry commented.

"Sure has." Hagrid agreed. "He's learning his commands a treat, too. I've been spending most of my free time out here with him, teaching him."

Harry had little doubt that was so. Hagrid did have a thing for animals. Speaking of. "How's Fluffy doing?" He asked. "And where *is* he? I heard about him helping during the Azkaban thing."

Hagrid chuckled. "Fluffy's doing fine. He's somewhere in here, guarding the place from bad sorts. He'll come if I call, but mostly I just let him run and do his own thing. He's happier that way."

"Fair enough." Harry said, mentally pitying any Death Eaters stupid enough to try to get to the castle through the forest. 

They'd be in for a rough go of it, to say the least. And it would all be for naught, because the castle's wards extended into part of the forest, and would not treat attackers kindly. Not after Harry had reset the wards in January. And he could make them even harder to get through if he needed to. Which brought something else up he needed to talk to Minerva about. He'd have to take her down there and show her how the wardstone worked, if Hogwarts hadn't already explained it to her, and see if Minerva wanted the heavy-duty war wards raised or not.

They spent the next few hours playing with Norbert and talking, and had lunch out with Norbert. Harry, in deference to his teeth and jaw, had insisted that the elves bring lunch to them, rather than let Hagrid cook. The elves had brought out a small amount of raw meat for Norbert and Hedwig. Enough to sate Hedwig, but the rest was mostly to give Norbert something to snack on while they were eating, not anywhere near enough to sate Norbert's enormous appetite. Once they were done eating, everyone trooped off to go feed Norbert.

That had ended up being far more amusing than Harry had expected it to be. Mostly because it was hysterically funny watching Norbert bumble his way through the trees, snuffling in every hollow and hole like a seriously overgrown dog. Occasionally, he'd actually come up licking his chops and chomping on something.

Harry soon discovered that Hagrid had set traps. These provided a number of smaller animals, all of a size that Norbert could crunch up in a bite or two, but still not enough to sate him. Harry figured out why Hagrid had the traps soon enough.

Quite simply, the traps and their contents distracted Norbert and allowed Hagrid to slip off and go hunt a deer or three without Norbert on his heels to warn everything in the forest that Hagrid was out and about. By the time Norbert got bored with investigating the traps and smells of the area, Hagrid returned with a deer over his shoulder.

Norbert ate about half the deer before he lost interest in it. The other half Hagrid dragged back to Norbert's shelter for Norbert to snack on that evening. Norbert followed them at a slow pace, his nose almost dragging the ground as his full belly made him increasingly sleepy. They barely got Norbert back into his shelter before he zonked out.

All that done, they headed for the castle. Hagrid led them to what Harry soon discovered was a prefect's bathroom, and they cleaned up there, washing dirt and blood and other such things off their face and hands.

Right about the time they got that done, it was suppertime, and they headed to the Great Hall. Minerva greeted them with a smile on her face.

"Have fun you two?" She asked.

"Yep." Harry said. "If you've got time after supper, there's a couple things I need to talk to you about. One about the school specifically."

"Of course." Minerva said. "I haven't anything time sensitive to do tonight."

When supper was done, Harry (with Hedwig on his shoulder), followed Minerva up to the Head's office. Now that he wasn't blindingly upset, Harry realized the room had changed considerably from what it had looked like when it had been Dumbledore's office.

Every last one of the shiny, moving knickknacks and the tables they had been sitting on were gone. Interestingly, some of the portraits had been re-arranged. Or the Heads had decided to swap what portraits they hung out in, one of the two, because some of them were dozing in different places than Harry remembered them being in his previous visits. All the wood in the room had been redone in a lighter shade, making the entire place brighter, and there was a thick, bright multi-color rug on the floor now as well. After a moment, Harry realized the rug had the colors of all the Houses woven into it. The curtains for the windows had likewise been replaced with something bright and cheery but functional.

Hedwig hopped from Harry's shoulder to the back of one of the chairs as soon as they entered. Harry turned towards where Fawkes' perch stood and grinned to see the phoenix in residence. He walked over and stroked him.

"And how've you been?" He asked. "Haven't seen you for a bit either."

Fawkes gave a lilting trill that really didn't need any translation - if that was any indication, he was doing just fine. Then Fawkes looked over at Hedwig and let loose with a short burst of trills, coos and othr noises Harry didn't quite know how to describe before shuffling to one side of his perch in a clear invitation for Hedwig to join him.

//Thank you, I think I will join you.// Hedwig said, more for Harry's benefit than anything else, and flew the short distance to Fawkes' perch. The two of them soon settled in to watch the conversation.

"So what's on your mind, Harry?" Minerva asked after they'd both settled into their chairs.

"Couple things. First ... has Hogwarts explained the wardstone to you yet?"

Minerva nodded. "Yes. It was the first thing she did after Dumbledore was killed." She said.

Harry nodded. "Ok, good. Are you going to put up the war wards?"

Minerva shook her head. "Not just now. The wards are sufficient as they are. Though I certainly won't hesitate to bring those wards up if an attack here is so much as rumored to be attempted."

Harry nodded. "The other thing ... " He took a deep breath, then sighed it out. "You know how Hagrid has Fluffy? Well, that's kind of not the only big, protective animal he's got. At least, not anymore."

That got him a quirked eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell." Minerva said in the sort of tone that demanded obedience.

"Well, umm ... back in like, February or something, when Quirrel was still around and trying to get to the Stone? He sort went to the Hog's Head in disguise and ended up playing poker with Hagrid. He lost a bunch, and talked to Hagrid trying to find out how to get past Fluffy. And he sort of lost a dragon egg to Hagrid."

Minerva sighed. "And the lot of you decided to hide it in the forest?" She concluded.

Harry nodded. "It turned out to be a Norwegian Ridgeback. Hagrid named him Norbert. He's about four or five months old now, and according to Charlie, he's going to start learning to fly about the time everyone returns to school. Hagrid's been training him, like they're doing at the preserves. Norbert's doing pretty good with it."

"I should like to meet Norbert, if at all possible. And learn what commands he knows." Minerva said after several long, tensely quiet moments. "Certainly having a friendly dragon about the place can't hurt in terms of defense, and if he is at all reliable around people, would be invaluable for CoMC classes for the upper years."

(_)(_)(_)

August 10, 1992 Potter Castle

Sirius had spent most of the evening before thinking ... and avoiding pretty much everyone. Well, thinking, and remembering. He'd even resorted to hunting down the pensieve he remembered being somewhere in the castle and pulled out the old memories for a clearer, more objective look come morning just to be sure of the conclusions he'd come to.

Viewing the memories that way had made things even more clear for him. A decade and a half after the fact, and he was hard put to not slap his younger self silly. How he'd ever thought doing that stuff was in any way permissible defied explanation. The more he looked at those old memories, the more ashamed he was of himself.

There were still problems, though. Like the fact that he still hated Severus. And Severus hated him. How in the name of hell he was supposed to make this right between them? Fifteen years of grudge holding on both sides was not going to make this easy.

Apologizing, while the most obvious thing to do, would probably be all but worthless this late after the fact. Not that Sirius wouldn't apologize ... he fully intended on it ... but that wasn't going to be enough. Swearing off all pranking aimed at Severus would probably be a good idea too, he supposed, as well as being cautious of 'in general' pranks - the ones not aimed at any one specific person. The fewer of those that Severus got tangled in, the better.

Eventually, Sirius decided to hunt Severus down. An apology and a promise of no more pranking wasn't much, but it was all he had at the moment. Well, that and a promise of no more name calling. It was worth a shot, anyway.

Sirius headed straight for the potions lab - it was the likeliest place for Severus to hide himself away. If he hadn't left entirely, that is. Sirius didn't think he had, though, as the Twins were still in residence, and Sirius seriously doubted that Severus would leave them unsupervised for any length of time. Those two came up with and got into more trouble than all four elder Marauders combined if they were left to their own devices for very long if the tales he'd heard from Molly and Arthur were at all true. It had made Severus' willingness to have them as apprentices all the more strange, given Severus' deep dislike of pranks.

Then again, Severus was more than capable of pranks himself if he was sufficiently motivated. And who better to anticipate and outmaneuver devious troublemakers than someone who was Slytherin to their bones? In that respect, the apprenticeship made a whole heck of a lot of sense. Severus had the best chance of getting those two sorted out and on the path to becoming good adults.

The good news was that Severus hadn't locked the lab door against him, which was all too likely to have happened. Sirius poked his head into the lab and promptly started sneezing. The air was redolent with an astringent, spicy scent that he couldn't immediately identify. Whatever it was, it made *not* sneezing all but impossible.

Severus and the twins were bent over one of the biggest cauldrons in the lab, Severus murmuring quietly to the twins as they worked. Sirius couldn't hear what was being said, but assumed it was a discussion about whatever they were cooking up in the cauldron. Seeing as Severus was in the middle of stirring, Sirius kept his mouth shut and didn't interrupt. He'd learned back in Hogwarts that interrupting in the middle of someone stirring a potion could and frequently did lead to catastrophic consequences. It was possible to put a partially finished potion into stasis without disastrous consequences, but not mid-stir. It was also all too easy for people to lose count of stirs, or mess up the pattern of the stirring when interrupted.

Stirring done, Severus immediately lifted his head and gifted Sirius with a lethal glare. The twins followed that look, spotted Sirius, and promptly made for the potions supply room at the back of the lab. Probably wise of them to get out of the blast radius. Sirius didn't intent to piss Severus off, but the odds of this discussion going peacefully weren't all that good.

Severus tossed a stasis spell at the cauldron and wordlessly pointed at the door. Sirius didn't demur. He had no idea what was in that cauldron, and if this devolved into another fight, the cauldron getting hit by a stray spell could end up being really, really, epically bad.

Sirius walked into the main part of the basement, found a few chairs and kicked some space free for them before setting them upright. The stuff down here wasn't really of much value, so if it got wrecked, it wouldn't be as big a deal as if the stuff in the upper floors got wrecked. Again, he wasn't going to set out to piss Severus off, but the man's temper was tetchy on the best of days, and today was not the best of days.

"What do you want?" Severus fairly growled.

Sirius sighed. "Look, I know the chances of the two of us being anything but uneasy allies is pretty damn slim, but ... " He shrugged. "I got to thinking last night, and earlier today, and for whatever it's worth, what I did when we were kids? Wasn't right, and I'm sorry."

Severus gave him a disgusted look. "And to think it only took you fifteen years to figure that out." He growled.

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, and ten of those, I was in Azkaban and more worried about staying sane than anything else." He pointed out, trying not to snap. "And before that, you *were* on the other side of the war, after Hogwarts. So it's not like I had much reason to want to see your side of this."

And not that Sirius was going to tell Severus this, but before that, during Hogwarts ... well, Sirius had *issues* with people that practiced the Dark Arts. And he had those issues for damn good reasons. Orion and Walburga hadn't been as bad as the Dursleys under Dumbledore's influence (from what little they'd all been able to piece together about Harry's treatment in that house) but they hadn't been far from it. Sirius had sworn off the Dark Arts by the time he was six due to the way they acted and treated himself and Regulus. Because if the Dark Arts made people act like that, he'd wanted no part of it. Ever.

Severus glowered at Sirius, but he was practical enough to admit that Sirius had a point on both those issues. He'd never had to spend time in Azkaban, but he knew the statistics when it came to people that actually managed to leave the jail on their own two feet. The odds of an ex-detainee leading a full, normal, non-insane life were very, very, very slim after even a year. More than that, and insanity was pretty much a foregone conclusion. And it was impractical in the extreme to foster sympathy for the enemy in a war situation.

Of course, that hadn't stopped Severus from holding that grudge all this time. In his own turn, over the last day, he'd realized that holding that grudge was rather impractical, given their situation. He wasn't happy about it. Hating Sirius was easy, familiar. But the bastard was Harry's godfather, and Severus had sworn to himself, if to no one else, that he would do whatever it took to keep Harry alive after he'd failed to save Lily. It was the least he could do to make reparations for his fall into Voldemort's camp and aiming him at Lily, however accidentally, in the first place.

"Fair enough." Severus allowed grudgingly. "So I suppose another truce is to be put into effect?" Since they'd had a rather unofficial one since Sirius had approached him the first time at Hogwarts. An uneasy truce, but a truce. Hopefully this one would be on better footing.

Sirius sighed. "Yeah. No more pranks aimed at you." He promised. "And I'll do my best to avoid you getting caught in any pranks that aren't aimed at someone in particular." He made a face. "I can't promise no pranks at all, though."

Severus snorted. "Not with the twins about. You will eventually get caught in one of their pranks." Severus had no delusions about his ability to stop the twins from pranking entirely. He was doing exceptionally well to have cut their pranking to once or twice a week. And once Sirius got caught in a prank, even Severus knew that Sirius would feel honor-bound to respond in kind, and things would devolve from there. Severus wouldn't even blame him for reacting. He was waiting for the twins to get up the gumption to prank him at some point, though that had likely been deferred for a while thanks to his reaction to Sirius' prank. They'd not want to risk that sort of anger aimed at them.

After a few awkward moments, the two men parted ways, Severus heading back into the lab, while Sirius headed back upstairs. While nothing had really been solved, exactly, things were at least a whole lot less tense between them now, and hopefully would stay that way.

Now all Sirius had to do was patch things up with Harry. Which, after dealing with Severus had to be a piece of cake. Right?


	17. Homecomings

Homecomings

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. I mentioned Hermione in Chapter 15. Pretend I didn't. I shouldn't have. Bad me.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 11, 1992 Hogwarts

Hagrid, Harry, Hedwig and Minerva headed out to Hagrid's hut immediately after breakfast.

"We put his shelter a good ways into the forest, Headmistress." Hagrid said, not for the first time. He still sounded pretty sheepish about having hidden Norbert.

Minerva seemed rather more amused by this point than anything else, Harry thought. He didn't much blame her. It was really hard to get mad at Hagrid at all, much less stay mad at him for any length of time.

"So you have said. I would still prefer to see for myself." Minerva got a pinched look on her face. "Unlike Dumbledore, I am not willing to take things on faith."

This being the first time that Norbert would be exposed to someone he hadn't known from the time he'd hatched, they were taking a few precautions. Once they arrived at Norbert's shelter, Minerva transfigured a rock into a sturdy stone wall just in case Norbert started trying to flame things, and stood very near it. Hagrid, who was still strong enough to manhandle Norbert, though probably not for much longer, was manning the door so that he could hopefully grab Norbert if he got upset. Harry took up a position between Minerva and Hagrid, hoping that a familiar face would help, and Hedwig opted for a spot in the trees.

In the end, the precautions weren't needed. Norbert came tumbling out of his shelter like an overeager puppy when Hagrid opened the door. He didn't even seem to realize Minerva was there for a good ten minutes, too busy greeting and playing with Hagrid and Harry. When he did notice, he padded over to her, making an odd crooning noise they'd never heard him make before. He nudged and snuffled at Minerva curiously, but made no move to bite or flame, evidently willing to trust that Hagrid and Harry wouldn't bring someone dangerous into his den. Or at least that was what Harry decided was going on. There really wasn't a way to know for sure otherwise.

"Well, he certainly is friendly." Minerva said, and finally laid a hand on Norbert's neck. "How far have you gotten in his training, Hagrid?"

"He's doing right well, Headmistress. He comes when I call him, and has learned to heel ... taught him that so he'd walk close if we needed him to, rather than running all over. He's also following most of the commands to move his legs and wings, same sort of commands Charlie and them are using with their dragons. I have to keep it pretty short ... he doesn't pay attention for long, but he's a baby yet so that's likely to improve." Hagrid told her.

"Indeed." Minerva agreed. "I'll review the situation again just before the students arrive for the year, but unless something drastic changes, I see no reason why Norbert could not be introduced to small numbers of the NEWT level students at a time in CoMC classes. We'll need to set something up so the curious don't traipse in here to check him out, however. I'll not want any of the students around him unsupervised. He seems complacent enough, but all it would take is one unfortunate accident, or one exceptionally dim student deciding that antagonizing a dragon would be fun ... " Minerva trailed off and shook her head. "I will confer with Hogwarts and ascertain if putting a ward scheme in place for this area would interfere with the main wards or not. If not, that would be the best, most reliable solution."

Harry mentally snickered, even while he wondered what first year would have been like if she'd been in charge. He'd bet good money the Stone wouldn't have been in the school, at the very least.

Hagrid nodded in agreement with Minerva's desire for precautions. "Aye, not everyone is as careful with beasties as they ought to be." He agreed, sounding somewhat sad and aggrieved about that fact. "If some blighter were to come back here and throw rocks or some such nonsense ... "

After a few more minutes, they went ahead and left, leaving Norbert to traipse about the forest for a bit and burn off some energy. Hagrid split off in order to begin his forest-related chores before too long, leaving Minerva, Harry and Hedwig to themselves.

"Harry, I should forewarn you that Dumbledore's choice of Defense professor this year is ... questionable. You are not to repeat this to anyone else, much less in his presence, but he is a rather ineffectual fop at best. Unfortunately, I cannot terminate his employment without just cause." Minerva looked rather unhappy about that. "I have arranged for an alternate instructor, however, as I have little doubt I will be given just cause in very short order. The alternate is ... shall we say far more suitable for the job?"

Harry grinned. "All right. Thanks for warning me." He said. "Out of curiosity ... who's the replacement?"

Minerva got a look on her face that reminded Harry strongly of the twins - pure gleeful mischief. It was a rather startling thing to see on her face, given that she tended towards strict and stern and 'don't mess with me'.

"I'll not tell you." She said. "You'll figure it out come the first, and that's soon enough. And it's no use poking about, as the replacement won't even arrive until the day before."

Harry debated asking Hogwarts. She would have to know, as finding a replacement would have probably been discussed at some point, which meant Hogwarts would have overheard it. After a minute, he finally decided not to. For one thing, Minerva had probably already thought of that and asked Hogwarts not to tell. For another, if Minerva hadn't thought of it, it was a little unfair to do that to Hogwarts. Once they got to the castle doors, Minerva split off, heading for her new office. Harry reached up to stroke Hedwig.

//So ... any ideas on what to do with the rest of the day?// He asked her.

//How about go for a fly?// Hedwig offered, nibbling at his hair. //You could borrow one of the school brooms.//

Harry liked the sound of that idea. //Maybe even borrow the snitch for a bit of practice.// He said, grinning.

That got him an amused crackle from Hedwig. //I can fly against you, give you someone to compete against.// She offered.

That made Harry laugh, mostly at the mental image of what they'd look like on the pitch. //Sure, why not? I'll probably lose, but that'll be something different.// Because despite their being more experienced, the Seekers for the other Houses hadn't really been a challenge last year. He'd only lost the one time thanks to interference.

The two of them headed to the pitch, and Harry headed for the general-use broom cupboard. The brooms the Quidditch teams used were kept under lock and key in a separate cupboard, except for practices and games, to prevent tampering. The brooms intended for general use weren't kept locked up, so that people could have a fly if they didn't own a broom, or borrow one for a game of pick-up Quidditch. There, he got quite the surprise.

Even in the wake of Neville's near-disaster early in the year, the general-use brooms had not been replaced. So Harry was a bit startled to be faced with a closet full of new brooms. Well, new in that they had been recently made, not that they were a new model. Whoever had gotten them, and Harry was betting on it being Minerva, had gotten an older model of Comets that according to Dorm room talk was a good and steady, if somewhat slow and uninspiring broom. Given that these brooms were mostly intended for the first years to learn on, it sounded like a good choice to Harry.

The neat rows of gleaming, brand-new brooms made for quite a contrast to the rows of disheveled, unkempt ancient artifacts that had been in here the last time Harry had looked.

"Wow." He said aloud. "Hooch either already has, or soon will be dancing a jig over these. I wonder if the team brooms got replaced too? A lot of them were nearly as bad as some of the ones in here used to be."

//I guess we'll find out once the season starts.// Hedwig said.

Harry grinned and grabbed one of the brooms at random, since they all looked identical. He then dug into the box of Quidditch stuff that was kept in here for pick-up games for a snitch, and pocketed it.

//All right, you. Give me a few minutes to get used to this broom and then we can play.// He told Hedwig.

They headed into the pitch proper and Harry mounted the broom, doing a few circles and dives to get used to how the broom moved. He quickly decided that the dorm room talk had had the right of it. The broom was remarkably steady in the air, but it positively crawled, especially compared to his Nimbus. It was also nowhere near as agile in the air.

//Right. I'm ready.// Harry said, and pulled the snitch out of his pocket. //Let's give it a two minute start to hide.//

//Right// Hedwig said.

Harry sent the snitch off. Since it was one of the 'pickup game' snitches, it was somewhat battered and slow from being used frequently. Which included starting its life as a game snitch. Generally a snitch could be used for two games before it needed to be replaced due to damage or slowing down. At that point the snitch became a pickup-game snitch until it just plain stopped working. This 'practice', however, was more about having fun than training so it really didn't matter that the snitch wasn't in perfect condition.

It really wasn't a fair competition. Hedwig could, after all, pull maneuvers that even Harry's Nimbus couldn't match, simply because she wasn't a long, stiff piece of wood. Harry caught the snitch precisely once, and then only because he'd been cruising near the stands on one side of the pitch and Hedwig had been clear at the other end when the snitch had shown up all of about ten feet from Harry. Hedwig caught it the rest of the time, though Harry had usually been as hot on her tail feathers as the broom would let him be.

Not that Harry minded losing in the least. He spent as much time giggling at Hedwig's antics as he did actually searching for the snitch. Because Hedwig, for reasons known only to herself, had decided to trash-talk pretty much the entire time. It sounded utterly hilarious because she was constitutionally incapable of saying anything actually hurtful to Harry, and didn't seem to be able to pull off a nasty tone aimed at him, either. Which mostly left her saying things like 'you've got no wings' in her usual gently maternal voice.

Then again, maybe she'd chosen to trash-talk for exactly that reason - she knew how ridiculous she'd sound, and that it would get Harry laughing. Harry certainly wouldn't put such a thing past her. Eventually, they both wore out. Hedwig came in to land on Harry's broomstick, ruffling her feathers with a tired but happy-sounding sigh. Harry stayed aloft long enough to catch the snitch, then started back down.

Which was when Harry realized they'd had an audience for at least part of their game. Sirius was sitting in the stands right by the main entrance - the one closest to the castle, as there were a bunch of smaller entrances/exits all around the pitch in case of emergency. Harry was fairly sure he's been there a while too, from the way he's sitting.

//Hedwig?//

//Yes, I noticed him.// She admitted. //But he seemed content to just watch for a while, otherwise I would have mentioned him to you.//

Yeah, Harry was calling bullshit on that. Hedwig was *so* not above making people who hurt him squirm - even if they hadn't exactly done it deliberately. Because whatever else had been going on the other evening, Harry was pretty darn sure that Sirius didn't mean for Harry to get caught in the crossfire. Which, to be honest, was probably the only thing that had saved Sirius from getting bit or clawed in retaliation.

Tellingly, Hedwig didn't comment on that thought when it crossed Harry's mind - and he was pretty sure she heard it, since she heard most of his stray thoughts without him meaning for her to. He supposed they ought to work on that, so she didn't overhear random stuff ... but Harry kind of liked it that she did. Mostly because she caught him before he could make himself miserable with certain trains of thought.

Harry headed for Sirius and landed a little bit away, but didn't immediately dismount from the broom. Sirius looked ... well, not happy. Some part of Harry wanted to change that. The part of him that had learned that an upset Dursley was a dangerous Dursley, and that appeasement was the way to go if he wanted to survive. Thankfully, that part of him wasn't yelling too loudly.

"I'm still mad at you." Harry said.

Sirius sighed. "I kind of figured." He admitted. "Your temperament is a lot like your mum's. Took her a while to get mad, but once she did, it took her a while to calm back down again too." He sighed again. "For whatever it's worth, kiddo? I never, ever meant to imply that you deserved what those Dursleys did to you. Not ever."

Well, that did help. Harry had known, academically, that Sirius hadn't really meant it, but it had still hurt. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only problem Harry had had about the entire mess. Obviously, Sirius had either been told or figured it out himself, because after a minute he continued.

"I was an idiot as a kid." Sirius said. "I'm not ... I'm not excusing it at all, but ... when I came to Hogwarts, I was a mess. I hated Slytherin and everything my parents taught me it stood for." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm old enough now to know their version of Slytherin was ... well, not 'proper', to be nice about it, but back then, not so much. And it really didn't help that Voldemort was getting going right about that time and had a bunch of Slytherin supporters." Sirius heaved yet another sigh. "And with Severus now ... " He grimaced. "Hating and taunting him was easy. Familiar. I never stopped to think about it not being right."

Harry frowned slightly because while Sirius claimed to not be trying to excuse his behavior, it kind of sounded like he was, at least a little.

//Sometimes it can be difficult to explain how things ended up happening without also sounding like you're justifying the events, Harry.// Hedwig pointed out. //Especially when you're not really sure how to explain in the first place.//

Harry mentally sighed but admitted that Hedwig had a point. And Sirius was trying. So he didn't say anything, and let Sirius keep talking.

"I did a lot of thinking the last couple days." Sirius said. "Talked to Severus and apologized. And not just for pranking him that night, either. I don't think we'll ever be friends ... there's too much between us for that, I think ... but we're back on more amiable ground with each other." Then, a bit more quietly, and definitely sadly. "And I need to apologize to you too, kiddo. I really am sorry about what happened, and I'm going to try to not let it happen again. I can't promise that it won't, because this is me we're talking about here and I've always been a bit of an idiot, but I'll do my best." He held out a hand, looking hopeful.

Harry thought, for half a second, about just flying off. The temptation was there, to hurt Sirius in retaliation. But in the end Harry just didn't have it in him to deliberately hurt someone like that. He climbed down off the broom. Hedwig transferred to his shoulder, and Harry set the broom on the ground before he headed for Sirius, ignoring the hand in favor of going for a hug. Sirius let out a distinctly relieved noise and hugged Harry pretty tightly. Then he laughed when Hedwig rapped her beak smartly against the side of his head in reprimand before she hopped to the seats to let them have their moment.

"Ow!" Sirius yelped, lifting one hand to briefly rub his head before he let it drop back to continue hugging Harry.

//Hedwig!// Harry scolded. //You didn't need to do that!// Even if it was kind of funny. Harry was a big boy and didn't really need her doing that to Sirius. She ought to save it for bigger problems than that.

//Yes. Yes I did. He hurt you.// Hedwig pointed out.

Harry rolled his eyes, grateful that Sirius couldn't see it.

"I deserved that." Sirius said, sounding more amused than anything else.

Harry gave an amused shake of his head. "Not really. But convincing her of that is a losing cause, so ... " He shrugged, then burrowed back into the hug. It was probably lasting longer than it 'ought', but Harry honestly didn't care. He'd never gotten any affection before ... well, before. He'd been uncomfortable with it at first but he had reached a point now where he kind of went looking for it at every opportunity.

They stayed like that for a minute or two more before Sirius spoke again.

"So ... willing to go back to the castle?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, I guess so." Harry said.

"Oh good. That means Toker will stop giving me death glares." Sirius said, sounding relieved. "I was beginning to worry about that."

Harry let out an amused noise. "I got the distinct impression he wanted me to ok giving you and Severus hell when he brought my stuff." He admitted.

"A thousand thanks for not okaying the idea." Sirius said. "That would not have been fun, even if we did deserve it." He slowly stood up, pulling Harry with him. "C'mon, let's get your stuff and let Minerva know you're heading back home."

Finding Minerva quickly proved not to be viable, as when they got into the castle, Hogwarts told them Minerva had left, headed towards the Forest to install the wards around Norbert's shelter. They left a message with Hogwarts so that Minerva wouldn't worry about a suddenly disappeared Harry and got one of the house elves to bring Harry's things to the entrance.

August 11, Potter Castle

Harry's return was a touch awkward. At least for him. He felt kind of silly, now, about storming out like a toddler having a tantrum. He'd had a legitimate problem with what had been said and what had been happening, but still.

Lunch was made considerably less awkward by the twins' antics. Then after lunch, Severus had approached him.

"I owe you an apology, Mr. Potter, for behaving in a manner that drove you from your home." Severus said.

Harry gave him a look. "Since when am I Mr. Potter, and it's forgiven."

As far as Harry was concerned, Severus was mostly the wronged party in this mess, since it had been Sirius hexing him that had started the problem. Or, well, brought a continuing problem to a boil, anyway. It made it a lot easier to forgive Severus.

"Some formality is appropriate on such an occasion, Mr. Potter." Severus said, still sounding a bit stiffer than usual, though he seemed to relax a bit at the apology being accepted so quickly and easily.

Harry gave a purely mental snort. He doubted that was the only reason but he wasn't going to say anything.

"I did have more than one purpose in approaching you, Harry. I wanted to inquire as to your progress in meditation."

Oh, right. The Occlumency stuff. It wasn't *quite* as important now. Dumbledore, who had been the biggest worry as he had easy access to Harry and the others, was dead now. Voldemort might be a Legilimens, but he'd have to get near Harry to use it, something Harry wasn't seeing happen very easily, given he rarely left heavily defended areas like the Castle and Hogwarts. That said, Dumbledore hadn't been dead all that long, so Harry and the others hadn't really had much of a chance to let their meditating slide. Not that Severus would have let the twins slide at all. Harry though had a bit more leeway. A bit. Not much.

"It's going fairly well, I think." Harry said. "At least, it's getting easier. I can stay quiet for about three minutes at a stretch now." 

He still tended to struggle with it a bit, as the sort of quiet and calm that true meditation required didn't come to Harry easily. Still, he thought he was making progress.

Severus nodded. "The twins are at much the same stage." He admitted. "The three of you should be ready for actual Occlumency lessons by Samhain."

"Meanwhile, Neville's probably already started." Harry said on a sigh. "And I'm not taking any bets on whether or not Hermione will be ready to start them when she gets back tomorrow." Numerous letters had gone back and forth over the last month and a half, keeping Hermione abreast of what the gang at the Castle was learning.

Severus gave his head a sharp shake. "Do not compare your progress to theirs, Harry. In this, as in your other lessons, progress will be individual. Neville is fortunate in that he has the sort of mind that takes to Occlumency naturally."

Especially now that the boy's confidence had largely been restored, and he no longer found Severus utterly terrifying. Neville's patience, phlegmatic and easy-going temperament made it far easier for him to quiet down his mind. Nor was Severus as sure that Hermione would excel at Occlumency as Harry was. True, she learned fast, but she also had a tendency towards a certain mental rigidity that might cause problems.

"Everyone has their specialties, and no one is universally good at everything." Severus said, then, thinking of the Flamels. "Unless they have had an inordinate amount of time in which to learn and overcome their difficulties with a subject." After six hundred plus years, that pair was universally 'good' at everything.

Harry sighed. "I know, I know. It just makes me feel stupid when I can't get something figured out."

Severus laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, understanding that general condition. His struggles with Transfiguration, and to a lesser extent Charms, had frequently frustrated the hell out of him in his own Hogwarts days. Not to mention that Harry was probably feeling a certain amount of pressure to excel due to his status as a target of Voldemort's. 

"It will come in time, Harry." Severus told him.

(_)(_)(_)

August 12, 1992 Potter Castle

Hermione, with her parents and Crookshanks at her heels, arrived at the Castle just after breakfast. She had actually returned to England the day before, but between unpacking and then crashing due to jet lag, coming to the castle hadn't been practical. Due to her not having a magical home, she didn't have a floo, and thus had to arrive at the Castle overland. Harry met her outside the wards, grinning at her and her parents' wide-eyed stares as they took in the castle.

"Goodness. It's an actual, literal, functional castle." Hermione said. "I mean, you said, but ... "

"Hearing is one thing, seeing is another?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Exactly." Hermione said. Then she turned to her parents. "Mom, dad, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my mom, Emma, and my dad, Daniel."

"Nice to meet both of you." Harry said, shaking both their hands. "C'mon over here by this standing stone, everyone. I need to add you to the wards so you can come and go without having to have me or someone else already added to the wards with you."

"Well, we would hardly be coming here alone, would we?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe not, but it's better to be safe than sorry." Harry pointed out. 

Privately, he was hoping Sirius and the others could talk the Grangers into staying at the Castle permanently. They were at risk of being badly hurt or worse thanks to their daughter being a friend of his. He quickly added everyone to the wards, then called Mallie. Mallie popped in right beside him.

"Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, this is Mallie. Give her your trunk, Hermione, and she'll put it in one of the rooms on the floor we're all living on while I give you guys a quick tour." Harry said.

Hermione, naturally, had about a billion and one questions as Harry showed her around. Much to his amusement, it quickly became clear where Hermione had gotten her inquisitive nature from, as her father was every bit as curious about the castle and its origins. He was also incredibly curious about the magical aspects of the castle. A lot of the questions that were asked, Harry couldn't answer, but he was pleased to realize he could answer some of them ... most of which he'd not have been able to answer a month and a half ago. Harry couldn't wait to introduce Daniel Granger to Arthur Weasley. It would be epic and hysterically funny and Harry was willing to bet they'd be best friends inside of about five minutes.

"And this is the basement. Mostly, this is Severus and the twins' turf." Harry said. "No one really comes down here unless it's to fish Severus and the twins out for a meal." Harry didn't mention the cell Remus used, as he wasn't sure if the Grangers knew about the werewolf thing, and didn't want to alarm them.

"Do you have any idea what all is in ... " Hermione waved a hand at the stacks and piles of stuff that filled most of the basement.

"Not a clue and I'm honestly kind of scared to try to find out. There's a *lot* of stuff down here." Harry admitted.

Hermione laughed. "I kind of don't blame you." She admitted. "Wading through all of this would be quite a task. Though it could also end up being worth it. Just because it was considered junk when it was put down here, doesn't mean it's actually junk now."

"True." Harry admitted. "So how many years are you going to spend exploring the library?" He asked with a cheeky grin.

"How does forever sound as a start?" Hermione asked, her eyes glittering. She had been predictably thrilled with that discovery.

Harry turned to Daniel and Emma. "You two could stay here for the rest of the summer, you know." He pointed out.

"Unfortunately, we really can't." Daniel said. "But we appreciate the offer. We'll be able to stop by on the weekends, and of course to go shopping with Hermione, but our practices won't let us stay gone for the entire summer."

Harry nodded his understanding, and just hoped they could be talked around before something bad happened. Thankfully, by the time they got back to the main level, Sirius and Remus, who had been outside doing who-knew-what, came in. Greetings were exchanged and both men re-extended the offer of letting the adult Grangers stay at the castle. Unfortunately, they were both let down.

Once the elder Grangers had taken their leave, Sirius sighed. "We're going to have to work on them staying here full time." He said. "They're going to be rather high-profile targets, even if they don't realize it or believe it. And things are getting very ugly already.

Hermione bit her lip, but nodded. "I know. I have a subscription to the Prophet. I know it's mostly useless, but sometimes you can get a sense of what's going on reading between the lines."

"Most of the attacks thus far have been against muggles, which everyone is ignoring as a 'muggle problem'." Sirius admitted with a disgusted snort. "The more fools they. Unfortunately, there's not a whole hell of a lot anybody can do about it just yet. The folks the Queen's asked to be trained are working on it, but they're not ready yet to deal with a magical fight. Won't be for months yet. It'll take that long to get the armor finished. Without that armor, they're sitting ducks."

"No kidding. I mean, guns can shoot at range, but if someone gets too close and they can't hide from the spells being flung their way ... " Hermione shivered. "It would not end well." 

And unfortunately, the odds of them being hit close-range were high. Death Eaters, after all, wouldn't be limited to just standing in one place. They could apparate and appear right behind a target. She gave her head a shake. "Speaking of spells, I'd really like to have a practice with everyone. I've been working as much as I can on things, but actual spell casting wasn't possible, and I need to catch up."

Harry laughed. "That's our Hermione. Sure, we have training sessions daily after lunch, so you won't have long to wait."

Lunch was a spirited affair as the twins, Harry and Neville took turns catching Hermione up on the things she'd missed, and Hermione regaled them all with her tales of France, and showed them pictures. All the boys were fascinated, as none of them had been out of the UK before. Harry knew a little about muggle France so he was a tiny bit ahead of the others, but only in recognizing the names and appearances of some of the places Hermione had visited - mostly the 'big landmarks' of France.

Fred, George, and Neville, who'd never been to muggle anywhere, nevermind France, had a million questions about various things. Even Sirius joined in, as while he'd been there, it had been a brief trip taken more than a decade before and his information was thus very out of date. Remus seemed to be the only one who had more than a passing knowledge of the country. Harry figured he'd been there at some point after Harry's parents had been killed. Probably seeking a job, considering the difficulty he had keeping a job because he was a werewolf - even if folks in the muggle world didn't know that. Missing out nearly a week of work every month wouldn't go over well in the muggle world.

After lunch they headed for the dueling chamber. Hermione spent about a half hour going over the spells that she'd learned the incantations and movements of, but been unable to actually cast, and Moody, who had arrived for training with Tonks, introduced her to the spell chain idea, then let her practice the basics of it before everyone got down to business.

As had become the norm, it was the kids versus the adults, with Moody and Tonks taking the place of Minerva and Filius, who were both entirely too busy dealing with school matters to come. Severus would be leaving the next day to deal with the things he needed to do last-minute. He had somewhat less to do at this point of the summer than some of the other teachers as he had long ago made it a practice to get as much done as he could before the last couple hectic weeks. He loathed rushing. This year had been no different, and the presence of the twins had actually allowed him to finish more of his tasks earlier, as among his self-appointed tasks was supplying Poppy with the potions she needed to minister to the children who came into her care. Completing those potions with two extra sets of competent hands had made things go much faster.

It took the kids a little bit to readjust to having Hermione there, but soon enough they had done so. Since Ron had long since ceased coming to the extra training, Hermione paired up with Neville, which ended up working spectacularly well once they'd gotten into a groove. Neville's tendency to depend heavily on shields and wait out an attacker worked well with Hermione's tendency to choke when pressured. With Neville right there shielding her, and his calm demeanor, Hermione had all the help she needed to keep from choking.

While they still couldn't consistently defeat the adults - they'd won a few times in what Harry was fairly sure was a calculated attempt by the adults to keep them from growing dispirited - they were doing better and better against them. Moreso now with Hermione and her eclectic collection of spells back on their side. It tended to be very amusing to see the adults' reactions to the spells Hermione threw at them, whether those spells hit or not.

Eventually the training ended and everyone split up to clean up before dinner. Over dinner, plans were made for the remaining two weeks of summer, including when to go get their supplies. Harry let Hermione drag him into studying (mostly) random books for a while before it was time to turn in.


	18. Laying Down The Law

Laying Down The Law

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 13, 1992

Severus returned to Hogwarts, sans the twins, just after breakfast on the thirteenth. Minerva was waiting for him as he exited the floo in her new office.

"Ahh, Severus. I scheduled a staff meeting for tonight over dinner. There are a few things that need going over before the insanity of the last two weeks of prep begin." Minerva told him. "Also, given that it is ... inadvisable ... for you to appear in public alone just now, I've asked Kabo to be your legs and hands outside of the school proper."

Severus scowled, but mentally admitted that Minerva had a point. He had nearly as big a target on his back now as Harry did. At least she'd assigned Kabo to him. Severus rather liked that particular elf.

While there was no such thing as personal elves for the staff, Kabo came remarkably close to it for Severus. Many of the house elves were intimidated by Severus' acerbic temperament and acidic tongue, even though he almost never aimed either at them. Many of those who weren't, Severus couldn't abide. They were either too excitable - never a good thing around potions and the ingredients for them - or too slavish, making him distinctly uncomfortable with their bowing and scraping.

Kabo was one of the older elves in the castle, and had a temperament that very nearly matched Severus'. Severus had never asked, but he had the distinct impression that Kabo was one of the 'rescued' elves in the castle, rather than one who had been born here. It would explain a lot of Kabo's attitude. Whether or not Kabo had originally belonged to someone other than Hogwarts, Severus appreciated the elf's complete lack of slavishness or hyper excitability.

"My thanks." He said. "Any other announcements?"

Minerva shook her head. "No. Well, at least, none for you specifically. There will, obviously, be some at the meeting later."

Severus nodded and took his leave, heading first for the Slytherin common room. He had a few things he needed to do there before he headed to his classroom and office.

"Kabo!" He barked once he was in the common room. 

Immediately, the elder elf popped into the common room. Severus gave him a sharp nod. "We have a great deal of work to be getting done today, Kabo." Severus told him. "Firstly, I want you in charge of bringing the Slytherins' belongings into the dorms come the first. I will be breaking up some of the preferred roommates, and will need your assistance to enforce this."

The Slytherin and Hufflepuff dorms, being underground, sprawled out a great deal more than either the Gryffindor or Ravenclaw dorms in their towers. As a result, there was no need to have four or more children to a dorm room. The Slytherins were two to a room, and occasionally there would be a Slytherin who had a room to themself if there were an odd number of children.

As befit a bunch of politically adept, cunning and ambitious children, who was roommate with who was a matter of status, power and influence - both that of the child's parents outside of Hogwarts, and the child's ability to harness and use those factors inside the school. Unfortunately, in the older years, many of those who were Voldemort supporters roomed together and used their rooms as meeting places to plan whatever harassment they were planning for the 'lesser' students. In years past, Severus had been unable to do anything about the situation without blowing his status as a spy ... even if Dumbledore had been willing to permit Severus to do something.

Now, Severus was not so constrained. He was going to break up the supporters, thus depriving them of easy places to meet and plan. He would be spending a lot more time in the common room between and after classes as well, to further thwart the Voldemort supporters amongst his snakes.

He told Kabo who was going to be broken up. Those children would be put in rooms alone, with his chosen prefects (none of whom were supporters) and non-supporter fifth, sixth, and seventh years between them to keep watch and stop any conniving. The vulnerable firsties and second years - the ones who knew the least magic to fight back with - would be housed in the rooms closest to the common room, where any yelling or sounds of struggle would attract attention the easiest. In years past, the rooms closest to the common room had belonged to the highest-status children, usually the sixth and seventh years, with the firsties forced into the rooms furthest from the common room. This had resulted in a rather unfortunate gauntlet that the firsties had been forced to negotiate.

"I fully expect there to be attempts at rejoining old roommates. Do not permit it." Severus told Kabo. "Recruit as many elves as you think you will need to prevent the separated children from rejoining forces. I also would like to solicit your aid in thwarting any malicious attacks, whether on fellow Slytherins or someone from another House. I will no longer permit these children to give our House a bad name."

Kabo nodded. "Kabo will do." He promised.

"Excellent. I also want you and the house-elves you recruit to regularly inspect all Slytherin luggage and rooms for Dark Arts items of any description. I will be performing weekly inspections myself, but you and your compatriots will have greater, unfettered access to personal belongings." Severus told him. "Do not attempt to remove or defuse any items you find. Inform me of them and their location at once, and I shall deal with them." 

The Hogwarts elves, Severus knew, had little to no knowledge of how to deal with Dark Arts items as many of them never encountered them, or if they did, were not permitted to de-fang or destroy the item in question.

"In further aid of this, I want you and your compatriots to go through the entire House. Seal off every hidey-hole you can find where someone might attempt to hide illicit material. The fewer places they have to hide things, the easier it will be to find that which they do not wish us to know they possess." Severus told Kabo, who nodded sharply. 

"While you are doing that, check all the tapestries, rugs, bed curtains and linens. Anything stained beyond redemption or badly worn is to be replaced." Severus then looked around the common room. "And remove all the ... macabre ... decorations and replace the dark furniture with lighter counterparts. There is no need for this room to be depressing or dangerous looking. And try to find brighter lamps if you can."

Again, Kabo nodded to indicate his acceptance of his orders.

"Now. I know I have brewed the usual potions for Poppy. Has she expressed a need for any others, or more than the usual number of vials of the usual potions?" Severus asked.

Kabo shook his head. "Mistress Pomfrey is all stocked up." He said. "Though she is worrying about refugees laters, because of *him*." Kabo shuddered.

Severus snorted. "She does have a point, but there is no need for worry. I was busy at Potter Castle this summer. We will be well stocked if things get violent." 

Which he had little doubt they would. The only reason they hadn't so far was because the ex-Azkaban residents and their rescuers would have needed time to recuperate from the battle and escape. The grace period thus granted was very close to being over.

"And the supply closet?" Severus asked. 

While the children bought potions kits, the kits didn't provide all the ingredients. Especially not for the NEWT students. So the school paid for the remaining ingredients. Technically, the students were permitted to keep their kits in their rooms, but Severus had long ago put paid to that, and forced them to keep their kits in the supply closet. He was not about to permit unsupervised brewing if he could help it. Especially since children were frequently wont to overestimate their capabilities. 

While overestimating one's ability with spell casting was seldom permanently detrimental to a person's health, overestimating one's ability with potions could be devastatingly catastrophic on surprisingly enormous scales. It was not all that hard to accidentally or deliberately create enormous explosions, toxic fumes, or corrosive liquids that could kill or maim dozens. He couldn't stop them entirely, but he could and did make it a lot harder to brew by forcing anyone of such a mind to 'steal' the required ingredients from under his nose. Most students were not inclined to risk his wrath, thus putting paid to quite a number of ill-conceived notions before they came to fruition.

"All stocked." Kabo confirmed.

"Excellent." Severus said. "That will be all for today then, Kabo."

Kabo nodded and popped out to go recruit helpers for the tasks Severus had laid out.

Severus was pleased. All he would have to do now would be to assess the extra equipment in the classroom to ensure everything was usable, and that he had enough to cover the usual, inevitable disasters throughout the year. This was why he spread out his preparations. Only having one last thing to do in the final weeks made his life so much less hectic.

He'd already laid in his usual supply of quills and red ink. He'd also, for the first time, been able to add a book onto the book list that would make his life as potions teacher easier. That book had been another case of Dumbledore meddling, trying to ensure he didn't lose his 'spy' by making Severus seem 'fair' to anyone outside of Slytherin. Really, that man's lack of tact and tactical planning had irritated Severus to no end.

The book in question went into great detail about safety precautions, ingredient reactions, and the effects various harvesting times, ingredient preparations, and implement usage had on ingredients and potions. Severus had vastly altered his first year curricula thanks to being able to have that book on the list now. The first years would no longer be brewing their first week in the class. Hells, if Severus had his way, they'd not be brewing until the second term. Maybe the third, if he could manage it. Anything that would reduce the number of potentially lethal accidents in his class was to be encouraged.

Severus headed for his classroom and began inspecting everything. Desks, chairs, the tables used for brewing, even the cabinets and shelves in the room. All were minutely examined for excessive wear and tear from cauldron explosions, splatters, and fumes. Severus also checked the protective runes carved into nearly everything to make sure those were not becoming unduly worn either. That done, turned his attention to the extra equipment.

While Severus always inspected the cauldrons and scales throughout the year and disposed of any that had become damaged, it was entirely possible for undetected residue to be present, and eat into the metal over the summer. Severus usually had to replace at least one cauldron to such damage at least, and this year was no different. He made a mental note to send Kabo out for replacements the next day, as it was late enough by then for the stores in both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley to be closed.

He'd barely finished his inspection before Kabo popped in. "The Headmistress be saying it is time for meeting." He informed Severus.

"Thank you, Kabo." Severus said. "I've looked over the classroom. If you would go to Diagon Alley in the morning and obtain three cauldrons and one set of scales to replace ones that are too worn to be used. That will be all that is needed to be fully ready for the first of September."

"Kabo will do."

Severus headed up to the Great Hall. He'd been so absorbed in his tasks that he'd foregone lunch, and was quite hungry. He only hoped Minerva's announcements would not deprive him of his appetite.

He swept into the room and nodded to those who had arrived before him. It seemed only Minerva, Trelawney, and Minerva's replacement for Transfiguration had not arrived yet. Lockhart, the fop, seemed to have cornered poor Pomona, who was looking less than pleased at her conversation partner. Severus was just glad he'd largely missed out on dealing with the popinjay. He hadn't the patience to keep himself from hexing the ignorant, imbecilic braggart.

Minerva had been rather tight-lipped about her replacement as Transfiguration professor. Severus strongly suspected that this was due to her taking him up on his advice, and at least attempting to lure the Flamels into teaching. He was not, however, absolutely certain of it. Still, he permitted himself a smirk when Minerva arrived with a man and a woman just behind her that he recognized.

For such legendary individuals, Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel were ... rather unremarkable in appearance. They both looked to be in their seventies, give or take a few years. Both sported mostly-gray hair and were quite short by modern standards. Perenelle topped Filius, the shortest of the professors, by a few scant inches. Her husband wasn't much taller.

There was an immediate flurry of reaction amongst the staff as the Flamels were recognized. Severus couldn't quite restrain a sneer at his co-workers' displays. It made their reactions to Harry's imminent arrival at Hogwarts seem tame. He gave a snort, then swept over, bowing to the pair.

"Master Flamel." He greeted Nicholas. After all, the man held a Mastery in potions as well as alchemy - the entire reason Severus had recommended the pair. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Master Snape." Nicholas greeted him in return with a smile. "We've watched your career with great interest. I look forward to your company in the labs."

If Severus had been at all of the sort of temperament given to giddy excitement or fanboying, that pronouncement would have reduced his brains to mush. As it stood, it still almost accomplished the deed. Even the faintest of accolades from someone with Nicholas' acknowledged skills was a heady experience. Severus only managed to keep his spine straight by more or less instantly mentally glomming onto the opportunity presented by Flamel's offer. Severus' Slytherin mind began calculating just how much information he could manage to weasel out of the learned man. Such an opportunity was to be taken full advantage of.

"It would be my honor, Master Flamel." Severus said. When he glanced at Minerva, he was amused to note that she was, rightfully, smirking in pleasure.

"Please, be seated. Professor Trelawney will be joining us in a few moments, and then supper, and the meeting, can begin." Minerva said.

They all gathered around a good-sized round table in the middle of the Great Hall. This table was generally reserved for the summer and Christmas vacation staff meetings and meals, as a somewhat more relaxed venue. During the rest of the year, the staff meeting room was used.

Trelawney did arrive a few minutes later. The next ten or fifteen minutes was filled with eating as everyone sated the first blush of hunger. Once the eating had slowed somewhat, Minerva tapped her goblet, gaining everyone's attention.

"Now. We have a few things to go over tonight. First and most importantly ... the school charter and rules are going to be obeyed ... and enforced. Both those aimed at the students, and the staff." Minerva pinned Trelawney and Binns with flat stares. "Class inspections will be conducted to ensure that the curriculum and teaching methods conform. Any professor that does not will find themselves unemployed as of the end of the school year. Sooner, if the problem is acute enough."

This got an outraged huff from Binns, who had, for a miracle, noticed Minerva's glare. "Well, I never. My teaching has always been of highest quality."

Severus wasn't the only one to react to that. The only ones who didn't scoff, roll their eyes or similar were the Flamels, who had never had him as an instructor, and Minerva, who seemed to have kept a straight face by sheer force of will. Even Lockhart had scoffed.

Minerva took a deep breath, then continued. "Any student or staff caught attacking other students or staff whether magically or otherwise outside of DADA or dueling lessons will be suspended or fired immediately and remanded to the DMLE if laws have been broken. Depending on the severity of the attack, a student may also be immediately expelled."

This got a lot of happy nods from the staff. They had all seen or heard of nasty attacks in the halls. Under Dumbledore's leadership, the worst punishment such malfeasance had incurred was a week of detention. This had, of course, done nothing to discourage such violence. And more than one DADA professor over the years had done minor - or not so minor - violence to one or more students that had nothing to do with teaching defense or counter spells of any kind ... and had been allowed to remain in the castle until the end of the year.

"Furthermore, bullying will *not* be tolerated. Any staff caught terrorizing students will at minimum be docked a month's pay and put on probation. Students will be suspended for a minimum of a week and put on probation upon their return. Each offender will be allowed two such incidents during their residence in these halls. The third will result in their permanent removal from the castle." Minerva pinned everyone with a gimlet stare. "Falsely accusing someone will not be tolerated, not by students or staff. Every incident will be investigated thoroughly, up to and including the use of Veritaserum if necessary. Anyone caught leveling false blame will be penalized in line with the severity of the accusation."

Severus found himself reluctantly impressed. He'd suspected that Minerva would bring down the heavy end of the hammer - she had not approved of Dumbledore's lackadaisical attitude towards discipline since the incident in his fifth year - but he hadn't known what form that hammer would take. This was comprehensive and fair. Every single tenured staff member was reacting to the decrees with pleasure.

"This information, as well as the other changes, has been included in this year's letters. I will be providing the House Heads with copies to be posted in the common rooms. A copy will also be on every classroom door. I will also be announcing the rules at the Sorting Feast. Ignorance of the changes will not be accepted as an excuse to mitigate the stated consequences of a person's actions." Minerva said.

"Among our other changes - the house elves will be taking a more proactive part in castle security and patrols. If a house elf comes to you and reports something going on, you are to act on it. Hogwarts herself will also be keeping an eye out, so if a suit of armor or statue brings a problem to your attention, again, act on it. I will know if you do not, and it will not reflect well on you."

Minerva sighed. "Now, on to more pleasant matters. After conferring with the goblins, it has been ascertained that Hogwarts' vaults are quite able to support a good deal more than they currently are. The School Board of Governors is no longer a concern. I want each of you to spend this year contemplating any changes you have dreamed of in the past. Any reasonable expansion of your curricula, whether books, other materiel, or additional staff, will not be refused. Nor will requests for furniture to replace that which is in ill repair."

This announcement started a furor of excitement amongst the tenured professors, all of whom had long had things they'd been desirous of including in their classes, but been denied.

Minerva smiled at them, then continued. "I have begun the search for professors to bring back classes that were dropped from the curricula in the past for reasons that escape me. Next year will see, Merlin willing, a number of additional classes, some of which will be mandatory and some of which will be electives."

Again, there was great excitement among the teachers, and no small amount of speculation as to what classes would be being brought back.

Minerva glanced over at Charity Burbage. "Muggle Studies will become a mandatory class for first through fifth year wizard-raised students starting next year. It will be joined by its opposite, Wizard Studies, which will be a mandatory class for first through fifth year Muggle-raised students."

Charity looked pleased with this, as she had often said that Muggle Studies needed to be a mandatory class. Severus had to resist the urge to cheer. It was about damn time. If the proposed Wizard Studies class taught the traditions and culture of the wizarding world, it would go a long, long way to reducing the resentment most purebloods held towards muggleborns and their ignorant flailing in the wizarding world, and vice versa.

"As of this year, Divination will no longer be an elective available to third years. All new third years that selected Divination were required to choose another elective, so those of you teaching the other electives will have larger classes for that year than usual this year." Minerva said. "Those in fourth year and above shall be allowed to continue Divination until their OWLs or NEWTs as picking up another elective a year or more behind would be problematic and stressful at best." Minerva said. 

This one was more of a reminder, as it had been brought up, and Trelawney knew about it. 

"Once the new electives are established next year, everyone third year and up will be permitted to pick one or more of the new classes up as their schedules and grades permit. Those in fourth year and up will be offered the opportunity to continue attending the class until they are ready for their OWLs and/or NEWTs in the new electives, though the full details of that process have not yet been worked out." Minerva said.

"And finally, in an effort to encourage inter-House interaction, if not unity, I have decided to leave the Great Hall open full-time as a place for children in different Houses to be able to meet up. To further encourage mixing of the Houses, the House tables will not be present other than for meals. The round tables normally used for balls and the like will be made available instead. Master Flamel has agreed to act as monitor during class hours. I would prefer to have volunteers to cover the remaining hours, but I will resort to assigning times if I must. The only one exempt from this is Severus, as he has apprentices to worry about when he is not in classes."

Severus breathed a mental sigh of relief. Apprenticing the twins was clearly going to pay unexpected dividends. Not having to corral the other Houses' brats in his off hours would be a blessing. He'd be far, far too busy riding herd on the twins and his own House when he wasn't in classes.

(_)(_)(_)

August 16, Diagon Alley

The Potter Castle crew had decided to go shopping in Diagon Alley on the sixteenth. As a result, the Castle sort of got invaded right after breakfast.

Sirius was taking no chances with Harry's safety. He'd drafted Andromeda, her husband Ted, and their daughter as additional security. Molly and Arthur would be there to safeguard their two youngest. Augusta had agreed to accompany them as well, more than willing to lend her wand to the childrens' defense if such became necessary. Better still, Severus would be joining them for the shopping trip, as he would be paying for the twins' supplies.

The first folks to arrive were the Tonkses. Both Andromeda and Nymphadora greeted Sirius with enthusiastic hugs while Ted settled for a much calmer and more manly handshake. Much to Sirius' amusement Nymphadora turned an equally eager greeting on a rather befuddled Remus. Nymphadora had accepted virtually any excuse to show up at the Castle over the summer, and had spent much of her time here eyeing Remus like he was a tasty treat and finding every excuse under the sun to engage him in conversation. Remus, amusingly, seemed to be completely clueless. Sirius was looking forward to seeing how things played out.

Severus arrived moments after the Tonkses, with Augusta and Neville hard on his heels. Predictably, the Weasleys were the last to arrive, though they did manage to be somewhat more prompt than usual.

Draco had been understandably unwilling to risk a public appearance, given his parents' escape from Voldemort's clutches. He'd be safe enough inside Hogwarts' walls, but the Alley was nowhere near so secure. Sirius had reassured the boy he'd obtain his supplies for him.

With nine adults capable of side-along apparation, and only seven children present, it was swiftly decided to side-apparate the kids to the Alley, as doing so was far safer and more secure than flooing. The idea of disguising Harry was briefly bandied about to further aid in his security, but quickly abandoned. With both Sirius and Remus present in the Alley, anyone with brains would realize the odds of Harry being nearby were good, especially with the additional company. The kid no one had ever seen before in the group would be rather obvious as a disguised Harry.

Molly, Arthur, Augusta and Sirius side-apparated with Ginny, Ron, Neville and Harry respectively. Severus and Ted Tonks side-apparated the twins, while Andromeda side-apparated with Hermione. They all appeared in a small lot on the Alley set aside for that purpose.

"All right. First stop, Gringotts." Sirius said. "From there, we split into the two teams we decided on, since we're rather a bit too large a group to descend on any one store at the same time."

That meant that Severus, Molly, Arthur, Andromeda and Ted Tonks would be riding herd on the Weasley children, while Sirius, Remus, Augusta and Nymphadora would be riding herd on Harry, Hermione, and Neville. Sirius had been tempted to put Nymphadora with the Weasley team just to see what she'd do, but had eventually decided it would be more fun to play matchmaker and get to watch Nymphadora attempt to garner Remus' attention.

They all noticed the announcement just outside of Flourish and Blotts - not to mention the crowd within - as they passed it on their way to the bank.

"Oh, joy. That ... cretin is holding a book signing." Severus sneered. "At least the Headmistress was able to put the kibosh on that nincompoop's initial book list."

"Oh?" Sirius asked, curious.

"Indeed. He was initially going to require everyone, from all years, to purchase his entire published works for the DADA class." Severus sneered.

All the adults shook their heads or looked dismayed, if for different reasons. "He's published, what, nearly a dozen books? And none of them come cheap. That would put a dent in anyone's pocketbook." Arthur said on a sigh. "So she got him to limit it?"

"Quite. He still managed to get almost all his books on the list, but each year is only required to purchase one book, rather than all of them." Severus said.

"That man is a menace." Augusta growled.

"You shall hear no argument from me, Madame Longbottom." Severus said. "The Headmistress is quite looking forward to any excuse to dismiss him. An excuse she fully expects to receive in very short order."

Gringotts was quickly dealt with, and the two groups split up. The Weasleys headed for Ollivander's since Ginny needed a wand, and they intended to replace Ron's, which he had inherited from his brother Charlie (who had inherited it from a previous Weasley ancestor). With the twins' expenses being paid for by Severus, Molly and Arthur were able to afford a brand-new wand for both their youngest children, which pleased both them and the kids involved no end. Severus, by the same token, was planning on replacing the twins' wands, which were also Weasley family heirlooms.

Having seen the sign, Sirius and his group had elected to go to Flourish and Blott's first. The book signing was already underway, but it was hopefully early enough that they'd manage to still get in and out with a minimum of fuss and bother. They were all worried that if they tried to wait out the crowds, they'd be forced to wait for another day to visit the bookstore.

Unfortunately, this hope proved to be an empty one. The store was packed to the gills, mostly with female shoppers, all with piles of books in their arms. At the back of the store, behind a table, was Lockhart, dressed in what he clearly considered his best, and with a big, toothy smile on his face.

Harry thought the guy looked like an actor in a toothpaste advert, showing all his teeth to prove just how good the paste was at cleaning them. It was clear to Harry after a minimum of observation that Lockhart was all flash and no substance, toadying up to his fans and blathering on like the worst of the empty-headed, arrogant stars on telly and in movies.

Harry tried to avoid that end of the store as much as possible, but it wasn't possible to avoid it entirely. The book signing table was very close to the cashier's counter. Something Harry didn't think was accidental. Harry eventually had to get a little too close to the table for his comfort. And of course, with his luck, that's when disaster struck.

There had been a photographer present, taking pictures of Lockhart and some of his fans. In the crush, Harry accidentally got in the guy's way. The man trod on Harry's foot, then elbowed him aside with a rude comment. Unfortunately, that was enough to garner Lockhart's attention. Lockhart instantly tried to glom onto Harry, and the photographer grabbed Harry for a photo with Lockhart.

And all hell broke loose.

Harry more or less instinctively stomped on the photographer's foot at the same instant that Sirius and Remus appeared out of the crowd. Remus grabbed the photographer by the scruff of his neck and yanked him away from Harry with the sort of ease that only his werewolf strength permitted. Sirius, in the meantime, got a hold of Harry and pulled Harry away from the guy and behind him, leveling his wand at the man. The speed with which the store went silent and a space was cleared around the confrontation was highly amusing to Harry.

"I am quite sure." Sirius said, in the blandly-calm 'I have the power to bury you alive' tone he seemed to reserve for dealing with the Wizengamot and overly presumptuous twits. "That you were merely about to *ask* the young Lord Potter *and his guardian* for permission to take his picture for the paper, and it was only the crush and the excitement that permitted the poor and borderline illegal behavior to which I was just witness."

Unstated ... but clearly heard by everyone present ... was the threat of legal action or worse if an apology was not immediately forthcoming. The fact the man found himself in the grip of a known werewolf just added to the implied threat. Those inclined to think along such lines would presume that Remus was basically Sirius' enforcer, there to beat the shite out of anyone Sirius pointed him at. Anyone that actually knew Remus, or had actually learned about werewolves *from* werewolves knew that was a bunch of hooey, but the bigots wouldn't care.

Amusingly, everyone was completely ignoring Lockhart's ineffectual nattering as he attempted to calm everyone down and get the attention back on him. A faint nod from Sirius saw Remus letting the photographer go. The man scuttled away from Remus as fast and as far as he could in the crush and nearly babbled his apology before making good his escape.

"There now. That wasn't so bad, was it. And I am quite sure that others." Here Sirius leveled Lockhart with a flat, almost evil glare. "Will remember that permission must be acquired *before* such actions are taken."

Lockhart looked like he was half a second from fainting, and could only seem to nod his agreement, completely incapable of speaking. Harry was hard-put to keep from laughing. Clearly, Lockhart thought that Sirius really was a mass-murderer, the Wizengamot's ruling notwithstanding, and was completely terrified of him. Harry had no intentions of disabusing Lockhart of that notion if it kept the man away from him.

Sirius turned his attention to Harry, his expression melting into an almost paternal concern. "You all right there, Harry?"

"Yep." Harry said.

"Got all your books?"

"Yep." He said again. "Hermione and Neville do, too."

"All right, let's get them paid for and get out of here." Sirius said.

Harry couldn't restrain a snicker when, despite the crush elsewhere in the store, a space was kept clear around their group until they escaped the store's confines.

The rest of the shopping trip was thoroughly anti-climactic, and the two groups reunited and apparated back to the Castle just before lunch. Sirius and Remus regaled the Weasley group with the tale of what had happened in Flourish and Blotts, and were highly amused to discover the Weasley group had heard bits and pieces of what had happened during their shopping.

"It is best that Lockhart was nipped in the bud now." Severus said just before he left, after lunch. "He would otherwise have likely done all he could to ... share Harry's limelight and claim it for his own. Given Harry's distaste for the limelight in any form or fashion, it would be likely that Lockhart would manufacture such moments at every opportunity. Which would force myself and the rest of the staff to hex him. I'd rather not waste my time or magic on the man, and am quite sure the other teachers feel likewise."


	19. Summer's End

Summer's End

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.  
/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

August 11, 1992 Death Eater HQ

To say Voldemort had been enraged by the Malfoys' escape was to vastly understate the case. That evening had seen a resurgence of the sort of capricious behavior that Voldemort had been known for at the end of the last war. He managed to not kill any of his followers, or drive them into (or further into) madness, but that was the best that could be said.

There was good reason for him to be so enraged, even if there wasn't a good reason to act like an idiot. Lucius, and Abraxas before him, had been by far the most politically savvy and influential of his followers. Largely because until Lucius' generation, Voldemort had only managed to sway Orion Black to his cause from the Black family. Unfortunately, Orion Black had largely been devoid of the keen mind and political savvy that had marked the Blacks apart from the rest. The Malfoys had also been his largest monetary benefactors. Orion, Regulus and Bellatrix had all contributed much of their inheritances and private incomes to the cause, but as none of them were Head of House, they had been unable to commit the entirety of the Black Family coffers. Abraxas and Lucius had both been Head of Family Malfoy, and had committed the entirety of the Malfoy Family coffers. Those coffers had not been the equal of the Black coffers - few were - but they had been considerable ... and were now denied him. Which was going to put a hell of a crimp in his plans.

It wasn't until the next day, when the worst of his rage had been spent, that something occurred to Voldemort. Namely, the fact that he had given one of his horcruxes to Lucius. That thought was followed by the thought that Lucius hadn't been the only one he'd given a horcrux to. Which was followed by the thought that one of the things was in enemy territory, and three others were, while not in enemy territory, potentially easily found if anyone ever figured out that Tom Riddle and Voldemort were one and the same.

It was easy enough to figure where Bellatrix had put the horcrux she had been given. Had it been in her house, it would have been found and destroyed when she and her husband were incarcerated, which he would have felt. He hoped. So it was safe to assume she'd put it in her vault. Likewise, if deeply unfortunate, was the fact that the horcrux he'd given Lucius would be out of his reach. It was either at their Manor, which would require a raid to recover, or in the Malfoy vault, which he could not access. While the raid was tempting as hell, Voldemort did not want to bring the Ministry down on himself and his followers just yet. Attacking Muggles and the parents of Muggleborns they might be willing to ignore, but a pureblood's Manor being razed to the ground would have the entire Ministry up in arms.

He didn't have a chance in hell of retrieving the horcrux in Hogwarts. He might have done while Dumbledore still lived. Dumbledore had been easily deluded as to his superiority, and had possessed enough of an ego to think he knew best and did not need to heed the opinions and advice of others. With Dumbledore dead and Severus firmly on the side of the 'light', he'd be a fool to go anywhere near Hogwarts. McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape had doubtlessly already armed the place to the teeth against him, and none were above seeking advice or help from elsewhere to further secure the premises.

Voldemort was still wondering what the hell he'd been thinking, to give those two horcruxes to his followers and put one in Hogwarts. It was criminally stupid of him, and the odds of those horcruxes being found and destroyed was very high. Yet more proof that something had been badly wrong with him in those final years before his defeat, had he needed such.

The temptation was there to make another horcrux, but Voldemort resisted it. He still didn't know why he was thinking so much more clearly now than he had been before, as he hadn't had time yet to do the necessary research. Until he knew the cause, he was reluctant to risk doing anything that might tip him back into insanity. Instead, he decided to gather the horcruxes he could get to and put them under a Fidelius spell somewhere that was both completely random and completely unassociated with himself or his followers. Preferably somewhere on an entirely different continent than himself and his followers, if he could manage it without drawing attention to himself.

Unfortunately, he had to relocate the horcruxes without raising the suspicions of his followers, as well as his enemies. After Lucius' betrayal, and knowing that Occlumency protected against Legilimency, he wasn't willing to trust the loyalty of the rest of his followers. One of them finding out - or figuring out - about the Horcruxes could be catastrophic. Even if the one that found out was utterly loyal and remained that way, others they might mention the matter to might not be. He could only hope that neither Lucius nor Bellatrix had figured out what they'd been given. 

Bellatrix figuring it out was less of a worry than Lucius. Not only was Bellatrix thoroughly insane and evil, but she'd been locked up for the last decade and unable to do anything with the information even if she'd wanted to. On top of that, the odds of anyone believing her were fairly low because pretty much everyone knew she was a few bricks shy of a house. Lucius on the other hand ... that was going to be a huge problem, if he knew. He could, and probably would, tell Severus or worse, Black. His only break came from the fact that even if Lucius had figured out who Voldemort really was, the odds of them finding any of the horcruxes this fast was low, so he had a certain grace period that he planned to use to the fullest.

To that end, he'd sent his followers on another raid against Muggles so that he could make the first of three trips without their knowledge. Since he never took part in the Muggle raids, no one would become suspicious at his not taking part in this one. He wished he could do all three in one trip, but that wouldn't be possible. One of the three would require almost half a day to get to and remove from its hidey-hole. The other two weren't as bad, but if he intended to re-hide them as fast as he could, he needed to collect each one separately.

He had decided to go after the horcrux in the remains of the Gaunt shack first. That one was, by far, the most vulnerable if anyone ever managed to figure out who Voldemort really was. The other Horcruxes on public turf were in places that were both far more difficult to connect to himself, and far better protected, so they could wait a few more days.

As he had been the one to put up the wards and spells protecting the shack, it was the work of but moments to take them all down. He killed the snake he'd left to guard the place, unwilling to risk it telling Potter anything if the boy came here at some point. After that, it was a simple matter of removing the curses he'd placed on the ring and pocketing it.

That done, he apparated to Dover, which was physically closest to France and the best place to apparate to the continent proper from. Unfortunately, using a portkey or floo to get to France wasn't a viable option, as portkey and floo traffic in and out of the country was carefully monitored. Apparating wasn't watched anywhere near as closely, as the number of people who both had the power and were comfortable apparating more than thirty kilometers in a single hop were few. There were quite a few people who had the power, actually, but the risks inherent in apparating that far in one jump made most people nervous. Fortunately, Voldemort was not one to be afraid of his own power and abilities.

Once in France, Voldemort portkeyed to the far south of France. From there, he slipped across the border into Spain on foot, as both countries watched portkey and floo travel across their borders very closely. Fortunately, much of the border was mountainous, and there were numerous spots where a wizard using disillusionment could sneak across. From there he portkeyed again, this time to the Strait of Gibraltar, then apparated across the Strait to Africa.

He'd been to Africa only one other time in his life, which made it an ideal place to stash a horcrux. It also made it very easy to pick a random spot. He apparated to the far south of Morocco, getting as far as he dared in the limited time he had. He chose a random spot, then dug a hole, dropped the ring in it, recovered it, and Fideliused the spot.

One down, two more to go. He retraced his steps back to the UK and his headquarters. Thankfully, despite the long day he'd put in, he still managed to beat his followers back. Evidently, they'd had quite a bit of fun raising hell. With most of the ex-Azkaban residents now in far better health, it was hardly surprising. In a few more weeks they'd be as close to back to their pre-Azkaban selves as magical medicine could get them, and then the real fun could begin.

August 16, 1992, Death Eater HQ

Voldemort was well pleased. His initial run to change the location of the ring horcrux had gone completely unnoticed. He had then gone and changed the location of the second of the three that were hidden in public venues. That one now lay somewhere in Western Europe, as far from the UK as Voldemort had been able to get himself in the limited amount of time he had to work with when his people were off causing havoc in the muggle world.

The third and final horcrux would have to wait, not that Voldemort minded. Because Rosier's illegitimate son had finally returned the night before, bringing with him those Marked followers that had been stationed abroad either due to family decrees or Voldemort's orders.

Theirs had not been an easy task. Voldemort had ordered them to find what purebloods they could, and recruit what few among them were dismayed by their lot. They and their small army of cohorts had been vital to the war effort the first time 'round, funneling equipment and supplies that were not available or easily obtained in England.

Most of the purebloods had been found in England's various colonies. Members of nearly every pureblood House had been stationed by their Heads of House in whichever colony held familial concerns that needed supervision. All of them had been younger sons, or sons of the brothers of the current Head. In other words, men in line for Headship that might otherwise (at least in some families) have been tempted to ... arrange ... things so that they became Head rather than the eldest-born of the current Head. More than a few of said purebloods had taken being sent from the UK - and the seat of power - rather badly and had been willing to help Voldemort's cause in exchange for promises of being brought back to 'civilization' and a position of influence. Voldemort had sent an additional handful or so of younger sons - who would have been sent to far worse places by their Head of House - to safeguard various needful enterprises.

While a goodly amount of the basic staples of life were produced in the UK proper, the UK had neither the square footage nor the environment necessary for more than that. Not even magical expansion and localized weather control charms were enough to compensate. That meant that the vast majority of the consumables - or at least the parts of those consumables prior to their construction - the folks in the UK enjoyed were produced in one of the colonies.

The only families not represented amongst the folks that Rosier had gathered were Potter and Weasley. The Potters may have, at one time, had sons that were sent abroad but those side-lines had long ago died out, if they had ever existed at all. The Weasleys, while they had produced *more* than enough sons to send abroad, were so firmly, staunchly Light-side there had never been a hope of attracting any of them to Voldemort's cause.

Finding purebloods outside of the colonies had been all but a lost cause. Some few purebloods had fled England and her colonies in the face of Voldemort's first attempt at ruling the British wizarding world, and some others had fled Grindelwald's attempt before that. Unfortunately, those that fled had all been of the opinion that purebloods were not inherently superior and deserved to rule. This made them highly unlikely to join forces with Voldemort then or now. Evidently, however, the pureblood followers from the colonies had managed to convince the children of one or two of those expatriates to join Voldemort's cause, if Rosier's report was anything to go by.

This morning, there was another full assembly. The colonials were going to reaffirm their loyalty to Voldemort, and the children who'd reached maturity since Voldemort's temporary defeat would be Marked, much as had happened with the UK contingent earlier in the summer. Those few recruits from outside the colonies would also swear their loyalty and be Marked. They would also all be reporting on the state of affairs of the holdings they were in charge of. It would be a tedious, exhausting day, but very necessary.

By the end of the day, Voldemort was very, very pleased. Among his followers and their children he now had a full two dozen potioneers. Sadly, none possessed Severus' skill, but one or two were fairly close. There were a dozen curse-breakers, nearly twenty Healers, a wand-maker, six clothiers, two armor-makers, four Herbologist, three Magical Creatures expert, and best of all, an Enchanter.

Enchanters were rare. Nearly as rare as potioneers of Severus' skill, actually, and for good reason. Literally everything in the magical world that had so- called 'permanent' charms or transfiguration capabilities attached to it had been in the hands of an Enchanter at some point in its manufacture. Enchanters combined transfiguration and/or Charm spells with special Runes that kept those spells supplied with power for an extended period. How long varied from item to item, of course, but was never less than five years. In most cases, the enchantment lasted decades or even centuries. Because of this, becoming an Enchanter required a very high skill level in Transfiguration, Charms, and Runes - and a fairly high magical strength. This was not a combination that was all that common, and many times the person that possessed such skills and strength was lured into another career. 

All these specialists were, of course, on top of the farmers, husbandry-men, foresters, small-town politicians and other general workers of varying stripes, nearly 1000 strong all told. And that number only covered the Marked followers. 

The unMarked numbers were rather substantial as well. There were another fifty or so werewolves - whose situation in the colonies was even worse than in the UK proper - nearly a hundred vampires, all the UK Dementors (a hundred or so strong) and all the Dementors outside of the UK, whose total population Voldemort didn't know as they were heavily hunted and thus the population tended to fluctuate wildly. He also had the Lethifolds and at least a handful of members from several of the other sapient-or-close-enough Dark magical creatures around the world that could and would travel. With a little luck, he'd also manage to retain the services of the remnants of the giant population - all twenty or so of them - hidden in the European mountain ranges and the vast open spaces of North Asia.

The Marked colonials were also promising, and would possibly deliver, on nearly as many again unMarked human fighters. These, however, would essentially be mercenaries who cared only for the money in their pockets at the end of the day, and Voldemort was unwilling to put any real trust in their loyalty. The Marked followers alone though, would serve admirably as the backbone of Voldemort's new army. Their numbers doubled the nearly 1000 army - wizard and Dark creatures combined - that resided in the UK. 

They were as ready as they could be. Voldemort had, however, decided to be merciful. He would not begin his campaign against the wizarding world proper until September Second. That way, the vast majority of the underage pureblood population would be safely tucked away at Hogwarts and out of the line of fire. War was, after all, an adult matter. But beyond that, it behooved him to spare as many of the upcoming generation as humanly possible. What point was there to ruling the world if there was no one to rule? It was bad enough that he was going to be forced to kill more than a few adult purebloods because they would refuse to see the wisdom of him ruling them.

The time delay would also allow Voldemort and his assigned trainers to assess the colonials' fighting capabilities, and integrate them into the existing teams. An extended muggle-baiting trip would help shake out any kinks. It would also give Voldemort the time he needed to disarm the extensive protections on the final publicly hidden horcrux.

August 25, 1992 Ministry for Magic

Fudge was not a happy man. Not at all. Not since Sirius Black had gotten himself free. That man hadn't stopped stirring up trouble since. Really, if Fudge had had any clue what damage Black's release would do to the peace and prosperity of the Magical World, he'dve ... he'dve ... Well, he would have silenced the man. Easy enough to do, where he had been.

Really, it was the utter limit that Black was insisting Voldemort was back, and advocating for people to become vigilantes. It was the job of the Aurors to stop criminals, not the job of the average citizen. As if such action would even be needed. Voldemort was dead, for heaven's sake. He had been for over a decade now.

Fudge was of the mind that all the so-called 'attacks' since Black's release were actually Black's doing. Eithe by his own hand, or at his suggestion. Black seemed intent on tearing down the government that had worked so well for over a millennium in retribution for his incarceration. Either that or he had, as everyone eventually did who earned a stay in Azkaban, gone completely insane and truly believed that the Voldemort War was still ongoing.

Unfortunately, the number of people who saw the truth - that Black was either mad or seeking vengeance - were painfully few. The only other person Fudge felt he could truly trust and depend on was Umbridge, who had scoffed at Black from the very beginning.

Fudge had reached his limit with the so-called 'death' of Dumbledore, though. Putting a badly mangled body with Dumbledore's face on a Hogwarts street? No, that had been someone polyjuiced as Dumbledore, or some sort of magical construct. Unfortunately, Dumbledore really was dead, or otherwise kept under lock and key, because he had not been seen since his 'death', and McGonagall had stepped up as Headmistress.

And that was another problem entirely. Because McGonagall had done so without the permission - or vote - of the Board. And she had already started to make changes to Hogwarts' curriculum. A curriculum that was, and remained, the best in the world and thus needed no changes. From the changes made, it was fairly clear to Fudge that McGonagall was pandering to ... well, certain folks that didn't need pandering to. Fudge was already entertaining ideas to put paid to McGonagall's plans, whatever they were. He just had to figure out what would work best. Umbridge was of the opinion that someone on-site would be the best way to go. Fudge didn't disagree - it was just a matter of figuring out how to do such a thing without forewarning Black and him managing to stop it if he was of a mind to.

And just to make matters worse, the Muggle Queen had gone and stuck her nose in where it was neither wanted nor needed. Really, she was a Muggle! What business was it of hers what the Magical world did? It was bad enough she insisted of showing up every five years. Fudge had managed to put her off in '90, and he knew Bagnold had managed to put her off once during the Voldemort War. He'd hoped to *keep* the interfering busybody out of Magical affairs, but apparently that wasn't going to happen. That she had been seen leaving in Black's company was just the icing on the cake, really. Fudge could only hope the Muggle queen didn't heed Black's insane ramblings.

August 25, 1992 Buckingham Palace

Once again, the Queen was holding court with the biggest movers and shakers in the 'protect the Realm' field.

"There have been a number of attacks in the last week that fit the description of magicals on the attack." Rifkind reported. "With a combined death toll of fifty." He did not look best pleased at that number. Then again, even one was too many. "We have also had a rash of biting incidents that I don't quite know what to make of. Some of them ... well, they sound like something a vampire would do. The others ... " Rifkind shrugged helplessly. "I shall have to speak to Lord Black about. He may know what they portend."

"That." Rifkind continued. "Is the bad news. The good news is that Lord Black has delivered the armor he promised us - the stuff that would be proof against all but the very worst a magical could throw at our forces. I've crates of the stuff in another room for everyone to distribute to their forces that I'll send home with you."

Elizabeth nodded, looking pleased at that bit of good news, then everyone turned their attention to the next person to report.

"The training of our forces is going well." The man said. "Even if most of them are dying of curiosity as to why they're being trained the way they are. Granted, it's mostly the 'colored light = duck' part that has them wondering." Most of the rest of the training hadn't been very remarkable, as it mostly amounted to a heavy emphasis on watching their six and the six of their fellows assiduously, shoot-then-duck, and other fairly normal military tactics. "That said, I am quite sure we have a few ... what was the word Lord Black used? Ah, yes, Squibs. We have a few Squibs among our forces, if the complete unsurprise and lack of curiosity of certain folks is anything to go by. We haven't asked, however, as if we're wrong ... "

Elizabeth nodded. It was possible that some or all of those people were just jaded enough to not show any evident surprise or curiosity, rather than being nonmagical offspring of magicals. Asking and being wrong about the person being a nonmagical would expose the wizarding world when they least wanted it exposed. "I much prefer 'nonmagical' or some equivalent to 'Squib', but I take your meaning." She said.

The man bowed his head in acknowledgement of Elizabeth's mild displeasure at his phrasing. "With the promised armor now available to us, we will be ready to begin actively defending the Realm as of the next attack. It will just be a matter of managing to be at the right place at the right time."

"We've been working with Lord Black on that particular problem." Another man said. "He's got something called house elves watching out for attacks on magicals born to nonmagicals already. He told me he's asked them to report to you, Your Majesty, or your husband, if an attack occurs near the home they're watching but is not aimed at that home. Apparently the two of you will be easier for these house elves to find than a nonmagical."

Elizabeth nodded. "We would be. House elves find people by seeking their magical cores. Every magical core is unique in some way, rather like fingerprints. I imagine they could find a nonmagical if that nonmagical stuck to a limited number of venues, but other than that, I've no idea how they'd find one particular nonmagical among billions of options. Speaking further on this issue, Lord Black has ensured that I will be able to inform those concerned of an attack in a timely manner." She patted the small box that was sitting at her feet. "He has supplied us with communication mirrors. They appear to be pocket watches, easily carried and unremarkable. Nor do they require magic to operate, though how he managed that feat, I do not know. They will vibrate when I contact you. You have merely to open them and we will be able to speak to one another, even see one another's faces."

Everyone looked intrigued at that. Such a communication device would be invaluable in the nonmagical world, especially in the military. There were, of course, video-capable long-range communication devices available in the nonmagical world, but they were far bulkier than a pocket watch.

"All our informants are in position." The final man said. "So if something happens that Lord Black can't forewarn us of, we have a shot at finding out about it before it's too late. Unfortunately, it will be rather hit or miss. This Voldemort fellow or his followers could pop up anywhere at any time. We've got as much covered as we can, but there are gaps where it just isn't possible to have someone on the lookout, mostly in the very rural areas where the locals would notice and be wary of a newcomer." He sighed. "The only good news about that is those are the areas that will both interest Voldemort the least - we hope - and where loss of life would be the most minimal if there is an attack." Which wasn't much by way of being comforting, but it was better than having, say, half of London with no informants to warn of an impending attack.

"In short, Your Majesty." Rifkind said after a moment. "We are as ready as we can be at this juncture."

Elizabeth gave a pleased nod. "Excellently done, all of you. I shall not take up any more of your valuable time today." She pulled the box with the mirrors into her lap and began to distribute them. "Contact me if something of import arises." She commanded, and got a chorus of agreement.

The small group of men left, following behind Rifkind, who was leading the way to where the crates of armor had been stashed.

August 30, 1992

The last two weeks of summer had been a mad scramble of activity for Sirius and the other members of the Black/Potter Alliance. They'd managed to finish all the stuff for the Muggles finally, much to Sirius' relief, and gotten it to them. 

Sirius had been horrified when Rifkind contacted him a few day after that, informing him of the biting attacks and the apparent animal attacks. Those attacks hadn't impinged on the careful watch Sirius had organized over Muggleborn homes and the various group homes and orphanages.

He'd immediately sent Remus to locate the survivors of the werewolf attacks. They and their families had then been duly informed of what would happen at the next full moon (where applicable), and what the survivor would have to look forward to the rest of their lives. Which, Sirius was determined, would be a better fate than had been the lot of werewolves up to now. Sirius had already had abolishing the anti-werewolf laws on his list of things to do, but it had just gotten catapulted to very near the top of the list, rather than somewhere in the middle.

Severus had launched himself and the Twins into producing massive batches of the wolfsbane potion, alongside the never-ending stream of Healing and offensive potions that unholy triad were churning out daily. Severus had also thought to inform Flamel of the situation. Flamel had immediately proferred his assistance. He would be taking over the NEWT classes, since Severus' change in curricula meant the first and second years would be doing minimal amounts of brewing this school year, and thus require a lot less time, effort, and concentration to keep them from blowing up the classroom. The second years would be doing the same 'potions basics' curricula as the first years, to allow them to have that solid base of information. Severus had been deeply tempted to put the third years on the same curricula, but had eventually decided against it.

There wasn't much that could be done for the vampire-bite victims. Those that hadn't been turned really didn't need much in the way of intervention, as there were no lingering affects to being bitten by a vampire. Those that had been turned were beyond the reach of the Alliance, as they were all being kept close to their Sires. The Alliance did have some vampires in its roster now, utterly disgusted at the depravity of some of their number and wanting to bring them to heel (or kill them) before they exposed the reality of the existence of vampires. Unfortunately, those recruits couldn't get close to the newly turned Vampires any more than other Alliance members could.

The political arena was very much a mixed bag. On the one hand, the Alliance was now a behemoth, with the vast majority of the Light and Neutral families amongst its numbers. There were only a few holdouts - two or three smaller Light families totally loyal to Dumbledore, even in death, and a small handful of long-time professional Neutral fence-sitters who had never, and would never, take a side. They'd been able to ram the first of the reforms Sirius had wanted through the Wizengamot with a surprising lack of opposition. Sirius still wasn't sure if that lack was because folks realized it was useless (either due to the size of the Alliance or due to both Black and Potter families backing the proposed reforms) or because they agreed with them.

On the other hand, Fudge was a problem, and a damn big one. The man still refused to believe that Voldemort was on the rampage again. Worse, Sirius had it from reliable sources that Fudge was looking to interfere at Hogwarts. While any such attempt would die a swift death, it was a symptom of a far larger problem.

The dragon training was going very well. Seren, and a number of other dragons in several reserves, had progressed to controlled aerial maneuvers in concert with a human rider. Still no luck with flaming, but the dragon trainers were working hard on figuring that particular wrinkle out. If the past was anything to go on, the flaming issue would spontaneously present and solve itself in time. Personally, Sirius was betting on Hagrid getting the flaming issue worked out before anyone else. Flaming dragons evoked a visceral 'oh shit, run!' response from any sane wizard, after all. Hagrid, on the other hand, had a unique view on what constituted 'harmless', and was thus by far the likeliest suspect to poke at the flame-on-command problem and get results.

Training for the Alliance was also going well. Even the least combat-inclined among their numbers had improved sufficiently to be able to survive until help arrived. Most, thanks to the training provided by Moody, Flitwick and a few others during the summer, were fully combat capable and ready to deploy when the hammer hit.

And it was going to hit soon. Sirius didn't need a spy in Voldemort's camp to figure that one out. There had been an ever-increasing air of oppressive anticipation over the last couple weeks. Voldemort had been surprisingly sparing with attacks on the Muggle world over the last month, though the attacks had gradually increased the deeper into August they'd gotten. It was pretty clear that Voldemort was using the attacks to test the combat readiness of his followers as they healed from the Azkaban raid or their stints in Azkaban. This last week, the raids had occurred every other day or so. Which told Sirius that Voldemort was about ready for the 'big leagues'. It was just a matter now of when and where Voldemort would hit the magical world.


	20. Being Schooled

Being Schooled

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 1, 1992 Hogwarts

Harry was both looking forward to and dreading his second year at Hogwarts. He was looking forward to it because he adored Hogwarts herself and the classes were going to be better this year. He was dreading it because of Lockhart, the Voldie-supporter Slytherins and their reactions to the changes made in the school and to Draco. Worse, he'd been on the train for all of two minutes when he realized he already missed Sirius and Remus like mad. Having family whose presence he missed was a completely new experience for him.

Their compartment was pretty crowded. What with Harry, Hedwig, Hissesh, Hermione, Crookshanks, Neville and the twins. On top of that, Draco had rather understandably opted to sit with Harry and his friends. Draco was not interested in potentially being murdered by a Death Eater wannabe kid on the way to Hogwarts. The worst part was, that would be the best outcome if a wannabe tried for Draco. The other possibilities really didn't bear thinking about. To further protect Draco, they'd put him by the window, so that there were five wands, a huge snake and two familiars between him and anyone that might try to attack him.

Draco himself was still mulling over the pros and cons of re-Sorting. Among the cons was the fact that he wasn't sure if he *could* be re-Sorted. Meaning he wasn't sure if the Hat would put him in another House even if the attempt was made. After all, there had been no debate and a near-instant Sorting into Slytherin the first go-round. Draco was also fairly sure that re-Sorting would end any chance he had of swaying some of the Slytherins to Harry's side of the fight. But Draco had a feeling swaying the Slytherins would happen anyway. While none of them knew what exactly they were, they all knew that Severus had *plans* to sort out Slytherin House.

Those plans were half of Draco's reason to stay in Slytherin. Because if nothing else, it would be hellaciously amusing to sit back and watch Severus in action. Draco honestly pitied most of Slytherin House. They had *no* idea what they were going to be dealing with from now on in general, never mind with Severus in particular.

The train ride proved to be pretty peaceful and quiet. Of course, most of the reason for that was that most of the seventh year and a few of the sixth year Slytherins hadn't returned to Hogwarts. They had become of age over the summer and gotten Marked, which meant the end of their educations, at least at Hogwarts. There were probably a few missing from the other Houses too, but they were a bit easier to miss as it wasn't almost an entire year's worth of people, just two or three max in each year in each House. Those students, thanks to their beliefs, had been the most likely to cause trouble on the train and while there were still Voldie-supporters on the train, it was clear that no one had assumed leadership of that faction. Either that or they'd been told to keep their heads down, one of the two.

What had surprised the New Marauders was that other than the newly-Marked Death Eaters, remarkably few kids had been pulled from Hogwarts. They'd been expecting Hogwarts to be half-empty or worse after Dumbledore was killed. Evidently Sirius' frequent lectures in the Wizengamot had had an effect. Between the newly-Marked Death Eaters and the pull-outs, Hogwarts had lost less than a quarter of her population.

The carriages were a bit of a surprise for the new second years. The twins had split off to ride to Hogwarts with some of their year-mates. Interestingly, the carriages were being escorted by a number of the teachers, all of them keeping an eagle eye out for trouble. None of the Heads of House were in evidence, but Harry had a feeling that was because they were going to ride herd on the Great Hall as everyone arrived. The Hall had the greatest potential for trouble, as the kids would mix together quite a bit before settling at their House tables. Having the biggest, baddest fighters there to squash trouble before it started was just smart.

Sure enough, when the New Marauders walked into the Great Hall, the remaining staff except Minerva were prowling the room. They only took their places when the students had all found seats. It was a little odd to see Minerva in Dumbledore's spot. Especially since Minerva had replaced the seat. Dumbledore's gold almost-throne had been replaced by a normal chair identical to most of the rest of the chairs except for Hagrid and Filius', which had been altered with their sizes and weights in mind. The staff seating had changed a bit too. Pomona Sprout now sat in Minerva's old spot. Lockhart had been exiled to a seat at the very end of the table, next to Severus. Harry didn't quite know who to feel the most sorry for there, Severus or Lockhart. Two new staff members had been added as well. One was a man and the other a woman. Both looked to be roughly Minerva's age or a bit older. Harry presumed one of them would be taking Minerva's place as Transfiguration instructor and Head of Gryffindor House. Why the other was present, Harry hadn't a clue.

The New Marauders all sat at the top of the Gryffindor table, as close to the Head Table as they could get. Draco had evidently made up his mind, because he headed for the top of the Slytherin Table, where he'd be closest to the staff and their protection if someone decided to be really stupid and attack him in the Great Hall. Harry noticed that Draco was getting a *lot* of looks from the Slytherins as they settled at the table, but the vast majority of the looks weren't obviously antagonistic. Harry hoped that meant the kids likeliest to make Draco's life hell had left. 

Pomona left the Great Hall very shortly after everyone got settled. Moments after she disappeared, Hagrid came in and took his seat. A few minutes later, Pomona came back in with the new first years. Harry cheered along with the rest of Gryffindor whenever someone got Sorted into their House, and added a thumbs-up to Ginny, the youngest Weasley. He'd heard a lot about her from the twins, though he'd only actually seen her once over the summer. Apparently, she had a Hogwarts-sized crush on him, which Harry found extremely embarrassing and awkward. Still, he could hope she got over it, right? 

Harry also made a point to clap for those Sorted Slytherin. He'd noticed last year that Slytherin House was really the only House that reacted positively when someone was Sorted there, and he kind of thought that was a shame. Not all Slytherins were irredeemably evil bastards, after all. Most of the Gryffindors gave him funny looks for clapping, but a few (other than the New Marauders) actually followed his lead and clapped, so Harry called that one a win. Once the Sorting was over, Minerva stood up.

"There are a number of announcements I need to make. First, each of you received a letter informing you of the changes in the rules this year, but I will state them one more time here. Any student caught attacking another student or a staff member outside of teacher-approved dueling practice or DADA lessons, whether physically or magically, will face suspension at the very least. Depending on the severity of the attack, the perpetrator will be remanded to the DMLE and expelled from this institution even if it is a first offense. Any student who is merely suspended for such acts twice and later attacks someone a third will be expelled regardless of the severity of the third attack. Similarly, bullying - which includes the use of such expletives as " Minerva made a moue of distaste "mudblood and blood traitor will see the perpetrator suspended the first two times and expelled the third." 

Minerva leveled a flat glare at the room at large. "As you have been informed of these rules in your Hogwarts letters, here at the Sorting Feast, and the rule changes are posted on every classroom door and in each House Common Room, ignorance of the rules will not be accepted as a defense. Be advised, however, that anyone found to be falsely accusing someone will face suspension or expulsion themselves, depending on the severity of the false accusation. Anyone foolish enough to attempt three false accusations will be expelled."

"Now, on to more pleasant news." Minerva said. "To facilitate inter-House interaction, whether studying, tutoring, or just gossiping with friends or potential friends, the Great Hall will be open from six am to midnight every day to all students. There will be at least one staff member on hand at all times to assist with homework issues and ensure cordial relations between all those present. The House Elves have agreed to provide a small range of snacks and drinks for those using the Great Hall between meals."

That got quite a stir from all the Houses. Harry noticed that most everyone seemed to be very pleased.

Minerva smiled at the air of excitement, then continued. "Pomona Sprout has been offered, and accepted, the position of Deputy Headmistress."

That news got a lot of cheering from the Hufflepuffs.

"Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year is Gilderoy Lockhart." Minerva continued. "And we are extremely honored and blessed to have Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel as teachers this year."

The Great Hall more or less exploded with gasps, yelps, and other shock-and-awe noises. Harry was fairly sure that the only thing keeping the Ravenclaws (and Hermione) from mobbing the Flamels en masse right then and there was everyone's desire to talk to the Flamels *alone* and keep any jewels of wisdom the pair saw fit to bestow to themselves.

Once things calmed down a bit, Minerva continued. "Perenelle will be teaching Transfiguration and acting as Head of Gryffindor House. Nicholas has agreed to take on some of Professor Snape's classes."

That had most of the seventh years all but drooling as they assumed Nicholas would take over the higher-level classes. It wasn't a bad assumption, either, but Harry had a feeling that Nicholas would be taking the younger years on. Severus may have intended to concentrate on basics with the first and second years this year in order to keep accidents from even happening, but that didn't mean that Severus would actually *like* doing it. If there was one thing that Harry had learned about Severus in the last year, it was that he had zero patience for ignorance and stupidity and that Severus considered pretty much every student in Hogwarts ignorant and stupid when it came to potions.

Minerva continued. "As always, the Forbidden Forest is exactly that - forbidden. Any student found to have entered the Forest without teacher permission and escort will receive a month's detention with Mr. Filch. This rule is even more important this year than in years past because over the summer, Hogwarts was lucky enough to obtain a hatchling Norwegian Ridgeback, who now has living space in the forest. That living space is heavily warded, and both myself and Hagrid will know if anyone attempts to breach the wards in any way. Such an act will earn the student involved a term-long suspension." 

Minerva leveled a flat look at everyone. "The sixth and seventh years will be afforded the opportunity to interact with the hatchling, whose name is Norbert, in small numbers throughout the year provided they prove they are mature enough to handle being around a young dragon without antagonizing it. All years will be hearing about some recent advancements in the field of dragon taming during at least one class."

Then Minerva smiled. "Last, but most assuredly not least. Upon my assumption of the title of Headmistress, I visited Hogwarts' vaults at Gringotts. There I found a treasure of inestimable value." She pointed her wand at one of the side walls of the Great Hall. A portrait came into view. One that Harry recognized. He grinned and resisted the urge to wave back when the four people in the portrait waved at the students.

"It is my pleasure to announce that a portrait of Hogwarts' Founders was in the vault. The Founders, once wakened from their long slumber, were quite thrilled to be returned to Hogwarts after several hundred years' absence, and have agreed to spend time both with their own Houses in the common rooms and with the other Houses, to get to know all the students currently in the castle."

And, Harry knew, debunk certain 'facts' about the Founders. Salazar, obviously, had a lot of work to do to fix his image, but he wasn't the only one that had incorrect information attached to him. All four of the Founders did, though the other three were not as badly affected by the incorrect information. The entire Hall exploded again at this news. Everyone looked thrilled to pieces to be able to talk to even so much as a portrait of the Founders. 

That was the end of the announcements, and Minerva signaled for the feast to start. Harry glanced over towards Draco to see how he was doing and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Goyle had plopped himself down on the bench between Draco and the rest of the House. Interestingly, while Crabbe had moved as far away from Draco as he could, most of the rest of their Slytherin yearmates were sitting around Draco. None of them seemed at all antagonistic towards Draco, and when Harry caught Draco's eye, Draco just gave a calm nod. That meant that the folks around him weren't threatening him or the like. There only seemed to be one other Slytherin in their year besides Crabbe that wanted no part of Draco, and that was Pansy Parkinson.

(_)(_)(_)

Severus swept into the Slytherin Common Room just ahead of his charges and settled himself where no one could possibly miss him. The discussion that would be taking place tonight was not going to be fun, or easy, but it was necessary. Severus was bound and determined to break the hold that Voldemort had on many of the Slytherin students now that he could do so openly.

The Slytherin dorms in their entirety had been transformed in the last two weeks. Gone were all the skulls and frankly macabre tapestries. Much of the furniture, which had all been dark in color, had been replaced with much lighter-colored counterparts. All the lights had been replaced with brighter ones, and more had been added. Most of the rugs had been replaced with rugs that had brighter colors. The result was dorms and a common room that were as bright and airy as an underground space could be. Yet there was still green and silver everywhere you looked.

Returning the Hogwarts' Founders portrait to the school had been Severus' idea. They had all of them forgotten about the second portrait that had been found in the vault. A few days before school was to begin, Severus had been chewing over how to turn his charges away from Voldemort when the thought of 'if only Salazar ... ' had run across his mind. At which point he'd remembered the portrait. When he'd mentioned it to Minerva, she had come perilously close to facepalming at having forgotten they had such an invaluable tool at their disposal. She had then made a fast trip to the vault and brought the second portrait back into the school.

Fortunately for Severus' plans for the evening, he had always had a brief meeting with his Slytherins the first night. That meant that none of the older students would immediately see anything amiss. Better, they automatically settled themselves around the common room after an initial startled once-over of the changed space. Once the first years, escorted by the prefects, arrived, Severus stepped forward.

"Good evening, and for our newest members." Here Severus nodded towards the first years, who had instinctively clumped together. "Welcome to Slytherin House. As you all heard at the Sorting Feast, certain rules that have always been on the books are being newly, more strictly enforced than they were under Dumbledore's Headmastership."

Severus bent a flat, frankly evil glare at those of the older students that he knew to be Voldemort supporters. "In the past, I have permitted certain students to hold sway and do as they pleased. This will no longer be the case. Believe in whatever you will, but know that prejudiced language of *any* description will no longer be tolerated in this House, or outside of it. Bullying will not be tolerated either. And not just because those are the rules of this institution."

This time, Severus' glare was for the entirety of the House. "At some point in the past the Slytherin House attributes of cunning, guile, and ambition were abandoned in favor of bigotry, prejudice, blatant bullying, riding on the coat-tails of one's parents and ancestors and throwing tantrums when things don't go one's way. As a result, Slytherin House has become synonymous with 'evil'. This state of affairs is wholly unacceptable."

Severus took a breath. "With the help of Salazar himself, I will be attempting to correct this situation and instill in each of you the qualities that Salazar so prized whilst teaching the lot of you the difference between acceptable and unacceptable actions when attempting to attain one's goals. There will be compulsory weekly discussions every weekend and compulsory lessons at least once monthly until such time as improvement in everyone's comportment is perceived. It is Salazar's aim, and will become your aim as well, to rescue his House from the dung-heap upon which it has been thrown and return it to its former glory."

Severus was actually sort of pleased about the reaction he got to this announcement. The handful of supporters aside, pretty much the entire House seemed, if not thrilled, then accepting of what Severus was going to be doing to them all year long. It helped that he was leaning a bit on 'Salazar wants this fixed'. Most of these kids had been raised to all but worship Salazar Slytherin. Their discovery of the truth about Salazar, which Severus and Salazar had planned for that first meeting, would prove very interesting.

"As always, my door will always be open to all of you. If you have questions or concerns, whether about school work, your home life, or any other matter, do not hesitate to seek me out between, before, or after classes. Now, I shall not keep you any longer. You have all had a rather long day. Your rooms are already assigned - each door has a plaque with names on them. Switching rooms is not permitted." Severus continued.

That last got him a lot of funny looks from the older kids, as rooms hadn't been assigned in the past. Severus knew he'd be facing a lot of resistance from certain quarters over the assigned rooms, but he was prepared for that. He lingered in the common room until everyone had found their rooms. Sure enough, the supporters, who had all been separated from each other, were less than pleased. Severus found himself reluctantly amused at the fact that despite that displeasure, none of the affected students confronted him. Evidently his reputation as someone not to antagonize would keep the troublemakers in line at least for a little while. He had no illusions about his reputation keeping them in line indefinitely.

He returned to his quarters to find Kabo waiting for him.

"No students be having bad things in they's trunks, Professor." Kabo told him. "Tibby, Mippy, and Zippy be watching students tonight to keeps them from changing rooms."

Severus had suspected that the students wouldn't bring anything in their trunks the first day of school. The trunks would be out of their control for hours, and the students ... and more importantly their parents ... knew it, knew that if the trunks would be gone through, that would be an ideal time. It would be much easier to send something to their children via mail at a later date, or even send something via a family House Elf. Though that route was far less likely, as most Dark families saw House Elves as little more than cockroaches. and wouldn't stoop to entrusting a house elf with a task of that nature.

September 2, 1992 Voldemort's HQ

Voldemort surveyed his assembled Death Eaters and other allies. There were just over a hundred magicals and beasts present, clumped in four groups. Each ready to hit a separate target today ... the first strike against the magical world since his reacquisition of a body. Voldemort couldn't help but wonder if Black could even rally this many defenders, never mind enough defenders to stand against the might of Voldemort's full army. He sincerely doubted it. That, however, did not mean that conquering the British magical world would be easy.

Black would be a challenge, of that Voldemort had no doubt. Certainly he'd be more of a challenge than the Ministry or even Dumbledore ever had been. Voldemort had only the barest of information as to Black's modus operandi when it came to strategy, tactics, and leadership. This made it far more difficult to ascertain what Black would do in any given situation. Similarly, Voldemort had only the barest information regarding Black's strengths and weaknesses, thus complicating Voldemort's own plans as he attempted to cover as many bases as he could, rather than concentrating on only one or two things.

Voldemort has spent nearly a week planning today's raids in detail with his chosen lieutenants. They'd gone over maps of the areas Voldemort wanted them to hit so that the lieutenants could figure out how best to choose who to bring on the raids and deploy those forces.

Splitting the Death Eaters into more manageable units under lieutenants was something that Voldemort had not done in the past thanks to his insanity. He had not been willing to give any of his followers such control and power within the group. He had chosen 'leaders' for raids at random every time. This had doubtlessly affected his success rate, as not everyone was gifted in the fields required for a successful raid. Not only that but the constantly changing makeup of teams had probably screwed with his peoples' ability to fight effectively on an individual level because they didn't know if the people who were backing them up were competent or not. 

Assigning lieutenants had served more than one purpose. It gave greater stability to raiding parties ... and it gave his followers something to strive towards. After all, being one of his lieutenants meant (at least in their eyes) that Voldemort valued and trusted them above their fellows, did it not? That he gave his lieutenants leave to break their groups into smaller groups meant there were yet more positions of 'leadership' within the group up for grabs. Voldemort had put a lot of thought into who to choose as his lieutenants ... and who would be in the groups.

The first group was being led by Bellatrix, her husband and his brother. Bellatrix might be completely insane, but she was one of Voldemort's most formidable fighters. Her husband and his brother, while not as fearsome as Bellatrix, were quite capable in their own right. They also had the benefit of being as sane as anyone could be after a ten year stint in Azkaban, having at least some skill with tactics and strategy, and having the best odds of controlling Bellatrix outside of Voldemort himself. To help counter Bellatrix's unpredictability, Voldemort had given her the vast majority of the best fighters, people who could think for themselves and act as required to complete their mission.

Macnair, Johan and Fenrir were leading the second group, which was not incidentally comprised almost wholly of Dark creatures rather than wizards and witches. Johan and Fenrir would control their people, and Macnair would control Fenrir. Johan didn't need the sort of control that Fenrir and Bellatrix required, thankfully. Voldemort had given Macnair just enough witches and wizards to keep an effective eye on the various creatures in the field.

Nott, Avery, and Runcorn had control of the third group, while the Carrow twins and Yaxley had control of the fourth group. Those two groups held little to no concern for Voldemort, as there were no real standouts in the crazy and/or uncontrollable fields and all six lieutenants were roughly the same in their capabilities. They were, on the whole, less formidable than those in Bellatrix's group, but none of them was truly incompetent either, so they'd be all right.

With roughly five hundred people in each group, the lieutenants would have the ability to form quite a number of units for raids. They would even be able to put together 'specialist' units in the case of the three units that were all witches and wizards. For instance, putting all the potioneers in their group together, or putting cursebreakers and wardwrights together on one team whose sole job would be to analyze and break down the ward schemes protecting wizarding homes and businesses.

The planned targets for the day were Diagon Alley, a Birmingham area where ten Muggleborn families resided, a Leeds area that held seven such families, a Glasgow area that held five such families, and a Cardiff area that held three such families. Voldemort had specified that in each case, not all of the potential families were to be hit - only one family was to be the victim of the raid. Areas with multiple potential targets had been chosen both to muddy the waters as to what the groups would be up to, and as an unspoken threat and reminder to Black of just how much territory he'd be having to protect and how many lives would be at risk as long as he fought.

Voldemort himself, of course, would not be attending the raids. He was using them as an opportunity to clear out most of the more observant Death Eaters for most of the day so that he could retrieve the final publicly-hidden horcrux and move it to safety.

"You know your targets." Voldemort said. "If an opportunity arises to capture any of the leadership of Black's group during the raids." Since he had little doubt that members of Black's group, maybe even Black himself, would show up at least to the Diagon Alley strike if not the other three. "Without getting yourselves killed, take it. I would much enjoy the opportunity to ... inquire ... of such persons as to Black's plans. The reward for such a successful capture would be considerable."

There was an evil chuckle and eager expressions from most of the assembled group. They all knew Voldemort meant 'torture and mindrape the idiot for valuable information' if such a person could be captured. That said, Voldemort rather doubted such a thing would be possible in the heat of an all-out battle. Voldemort caught the eyes of his lieutenants and nodded. They immediately gathered their people and started filing out of the room. Once they had all apparated out, Voldemort removed himself to the room that served as his office, informing those of his followers that remained at headquarters that he was not to be disturbed on pain of death. He then locked the office door and apparated to a convenient spot near his goal.

The cave had been the second place he'd hidden a horcrux, back when he'd had some claim to sanity. The protections reflected that. The cave itself was the first protection. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of caves along the coastline of the UK, making finding one in particular difficult. This cave was further protected by the high cliff above it, rocks in the water, and high tides and heavy seas much of the time, making it impossible to approach by boat and extremely difficult to climb down to. The only real possibility for approach was a pinpoint apparation to the top of the highest rock in the water around the cave at low tide. It also, unlike the Gaunt shack, which would have been fairly easy to link to Voldemort if someone did their research, was only loosely linked with the boy Voldemort had once been. He had only been here once back then.

Voldemort picked his way across the exposed rocks and into the cave. Once inside, he headed to the back wall and began the job of disenchanting the first of the magical protections on the place. Once through the back wall, Voldemort settled himself for the long, arduous task of ... deactivating ... all the inferi under the water. There was no point in having them there once the horcrux was gone.

That done, he undid the spellwork on the boat, returning it to just an ordinary boat, rather than one magically altered to sink or otherwise rid itself of passengers if more than one stepped aboard it. The trip to the little island at the center of the underground lake was swift from there.

Fifteen minutes later, after having removed the enchantments and potion from the horcux's actual resting place more than ten minutes ago, Voldemort was still standing there staring. Torn between gibbering rage, horror and fear.

He didn't even have to touch the locket to know it was not the locket he had placed here so many years ago. Someone had found this place. Someone had removed the horcrux. Now more than ever, Voldemort was glad that he had moved the other two. Someone, somewhere, knew what he had done, even if they hadn't been able to find all of them.

It shook him to his bones. The urge to make another horcrux or three was incredibly strong. It took another ten or fifteen minutes to calm down and re-convince himself that making more horcruxes was an epically bad idea. He still had two for sure. Two horcruxes that were now hidden in places that no one was ever going to find. Hell, they could stand right on top of the spots and never know. He was and would remain, therefore, immortal.

Having reassured himself on that wise, Voldemort finally picked the false locket up to examine it, hoping to find some clue as to who had found this place. The false locket's presence spoke to a certain amount of planning. Whoever it was had clearly been here at least twice - once to see and remove the real locket, and a second time to place the false one. He knew this because there were no runes anywhere on the false locket. Runes were required to keep things transfigured for more than a few hours. That meant that this locket had been created in the image of the original, probably by an actual magical jeweler. Which meant that there would be a trail for Voldemort to follow if there was nothing in or on the locket itself to identify the person who had left it here. The locket was distinctive enough that a jeweler would remember making it.

In the end, such a hunt was made unnecessary. For within the locket was a slip of paper and a set of initials. It took very little thought to identify the owner of those initials. Voldemort cringed. Damn, Damn, Damn. So it would seem that Lord Black had not been the only Black that Voldemort had made an enemy of. He well remembered the mystery of Regulus' disappearance. He had, at the time, made it appear that he knew what had happened to Regulus, as he had felt that appearing as ignorant as everyone else would be a very bad idea. Now he knew why Regulus had disappeared.

Voldemort finally shook off the shock and apparated out of the cave now that all the protections on it were removed.


	21. Snake, Grim, and Crown

Snake, Grim, and Crown

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Fair warning - there's lots of violence and death in this chapter, though it's not very explicit.

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

With five locations to hit and four groups, it had been the group controlled by the LeStranges that split up. Rabastan Lestrange took fully half of their selected participants - fifteen people, all told - to Diagon Alley. Bellatrix, with her husband Rodolphus, took the other fifteen to hit Cardiff. Macnair and his group were hitting Birmingham, while Nott was hitting Leeds and the Carrows were hitting Glasgow.

September 2, 1992 Cardiff

Bellatrix, Rodolphus and their cohort apparated into a small park near the neighborhood they were going to be hitting. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon, staining the sky shades of orange and red. Thanks to the very early hour, while there were people out and about, they were few in number, and none saw the group arrive thanks to the screen of trees and bushes.

The LeStranges - well, largely the two men, as they were more capable of not only planning but sticking to the plan, had decided that they'd approach the area that held the three Mudblood families from one end. This would, they hoped, make it look like they planned on hitting all three families one after the other.

With that plan in mind, the LeStranges and their group started through the neighborhood. Rodolphus had had the bright idea to have their group travel in pairs or triads, with enough space between them to reduce the chance that any observers would realize they were together. Once they arrived, four members of the group were immediately sent in the four cardinal directions, to surround their actual target and keep an eye out for approaching defenders while the remainder of the group had some fun.

What none of the Death Eaters realized, but were about to find out, was that they had chosen the worst possible Muggle areas to hit. The major cities of the UK were not nearly as defenseless against them as the small rural villages thanks to the steps Elizabeth had taken to ensure the protection of her subjects. By this point, every major city had at least one squad of defenders ready to respond to any attacks. Most of the largest cities had two or three squads. And the four cities that had been chosen as targets were among the biggest in the UK, and thus all four cities had more than one response squad in place.

At first, the Death Eaters didn't really draw much attention. It was too early for many people to be awake. That meant that there were too few people out and about to really notice them and wonder at their odd dress. That wasn't going to last long, however.

The group arrived at their chosen victim's home. Bellatrix and four others slipped inside the home to play with the residents. The fact they didn't just blast the door in bought them critical time. Rodolphus and the remainder of the group began to set up traps, anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards and other surprises in anticipation of the arrival of defenders.

An alert neighbor down the street saw the flashes of light caused by the spellwork and the oddly dressed men in their neighbor's yard. When an agonized scream reached them a few moments later, they lost no time calling the local constabulary. They weren't the only ones calling for help, either. The House Elf assigned to the area lost no time racing for Potter Castle when it saw the Death Eaters approaching. As a result, the Death Eaters were only part-way through erecting their traps, surprises and wards when a dozen men and women apparated practically on top of them.

It became very clear very quickly that these were definitely Black's people, not remnants of the Order. Rodolphus found himself fending off a lot of very unpleasant but not Dark spells, and not a stunner among them. These people were shooting to maim at the very least, and preferably to kill.

Rodolphus dove for cover and started firing back, as did the rest of the Death Eaters out on the lawn. About a minute later, Rodolphus heard his wife scream in rage. A few moments after that, the Death Eaters that had been in the house came running back out. There was a terrific explosion that rained bits of wood, plastic, and metal on everyone. Rodolphus, aware that Bellatrix hadn't come out of the house, whirled around. The top half of the house now had a huge chunk out of it. Bellatrix, singed, covered in soot and shrapnel and with her hair sticking out everywhere, became visible through the flames and smoke that the explosion caused. As soon as she saw the fighting going on, she started shooting Avada Kedavras, Crucios, and a range of the nastiest Dark Arts spells in her repertoire.

Rodolphus, relieved Bellatrix was alive and well, returned his attention to the battle. Unfortunately, someone had taken advantage of his momentary lapse in attention. He never saw the spell or the caster, but he got thrown backwards into the wall of the house hard enough to knock him silly.

The next thing he knew, Bellatrix was screaming again, this time in fear as she tumbled out of the house and fell a few feet away from him. He heard the crunch of more than one bone breaking as she hit. This, however, didn't stop her from shoving partially upright and shooting spells at the defenders from a mostly sprawled position. Rodolphus scrambled to his feet and threw a shield over his wife to protect her since she couldn't dodge incoming spells. That done, he crouched down.

"The Muggles?" He asked.

"Gone!" Bellatrix snarled, enraged. "House elves or portkeys. That traitor will pay for this!" Meaning Sirius.

"Had to be elves." Rodolphus said. "We got the portkey ward up before this lot arrived." He glanced around. "Time to go."

"Our Lord will be greatly displeased." Bellatrix pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. Hopefully not *too* displeased though." Rodolphus said. At least their chances of getting Crucio'd were less than they had been in the past. Their Lord had been more merciful of late than had been his wont towards the end of the last war.

Rodolphus signaled to their group to retreat. Unfortunately, he was a few seconds too late. Because a squad of Muggle defenders arrived. One, a sniper, managed to take out two previously-injured and thus slower-moving Death Eaters before they could escape. Unfortunately, Bellatrix was not one of them. Nor was Rodolphus.

(_)(_)(_)

Glasgow

Like the LeStranges, the Carrow twins, Yaxley and the rest of their group - twenty strong - apparated into a small park near their Glasgow area targets. Unlike the LeStranges, they opted for a park more or less smack in the center of the area bordered by the five Mudblood homes.

Glasgow being larger and more heavily populated than Cardiff, and their target area having a lot of apartment buildings and row houses instead of duplexes and stand-alone homes, the Carrows and Yaxley were not quite as fortunate as the LeStranges. Their arrival in the area was noted within two minutes.

Glasgow being the city it was, and its reputation not being entirely exaggeration or hyperbole, more than a few area residents kept an eye on the group of oddballs in their midst. One or two ducked into their homes, some of them preemptively calling law enforcement while others grabbed whatever weapon came to hand, prepared to defend their homes and their neighbors' homes if things got violent.

Which, of course, they did. Yaxley, unaware of the noose already tightening around their group, sent sentries in several directions to watch for magical defenders. Alecto Carrow took some of the rest of their group to start putting up wards and traps while her brother Amycus headed for their chosen target. The moment Amycus blasted the row house's door off its hinges, all hell broke loose.

For a start, the Muggle father that lived here was an amateur rugby player, and all too willing to defend his home and his family. Better still, he was awake and downstairs when the Death Eaters blasted the door to splinters. He also had wits enough to stay out of sight around a door until the attackers actually entered his home and were forced into close quarters in the foyer.

He managed to break Amycus' nose and headbutt another Death Eater into unconsciousness as well as dispense quite a few bruises and minor cuts in the close quarters. It took a bit before someone a little further back managed to recover from the shock of being physically attacked by a Muggle and clipped him with a spell. Fortunately for the father, the Death Eater did not use a Dark Arts spell, as they were leery of hitting one of their own in the melee. Instead, they used a stunner - something that would do no real damage to their forces but would take the Muggle out of the fight.

Outside, things were not going so well. For either side. The door being blasted had seen more than a few local residents charging the Death Eaters. Unfortunately for them, the Death Eaters outside the home were not constrained by close quarters, and thus could deploy the Dark Arts at will. Four people were killed in the initial rush.

But this just enraged the locals further. They fell back, seeking cover. Two residents from the other side of the street who happened to be in possession of hunting rifles were quick to break them out and get into position to start shooting. The rest sought bits of brick, rock, and whatever other throw-able ammunition they could find to harry the Death Eaters with from a safer distance and cover.

While buckshot didn't generally do terrible damage to human beings, the racket the shooting created, and the fact that they were, in fact, being hit by the Muggles at a distance threw the Death Eaters into minor confusion and outrage.

It was perhaps fortunate for the magical defenders that they were forewarned of the local civilian defense by the house elf watcher and didn't apparate right on top of the Death Eaters as the Cardiff group had. There was a very tense minute or so when the defenders arrived and started attacking the Death Eaters. The locals almost visibly weighing their options. Continue attacking the folks breaking into the house and ignore the new group? Attack both groups? Retreat and let the two sides fight it out? Eventually, the decided on the first option, and ignored the magical defenders in favor of the proven murderers in their midst.

The arrival of the magical defenders drew all but Amycus and an assistant out of the house to aid their fellows. Those two were not sufficient to stop house elves from popping in and rescuing the family from under their noses.

Alecto and the others were too hard-pressed and confused to escape via portkey even if they'd wanted to. Most of them weren't about to retreat, however, from mere muggles. Several were taking rather unholy amounts of glee out of trying to kill any Muggle who stuck their head above cover or happened to chose a spot to hide that had something behind or over it that the Death Eaters could collapse on top of them.

Glasgow's muggle defense squad arrived only moments behind the magical defenders, their faster response time thanks entirely to the alert neighbors who had called them even before trouble started. They, like the Cardiff team, had several snipers. These snipers made tracks for suitable roofs and other elevated positions. The rest of the squad, armed with far more powerful firearms than hunting rifles, found protected positions from which to shoot and got to work.

Alecto got the shock of her life when a Death Eater standing next to her abruptly dropped, with no sign of a spell being thrown their way, and blood pouring from a hole in the Death Eater's head. Only the fact that Alecto instantly threw herself to the ground to avoid being targeted by whatever spell had done that saved her from suffering the same fate. She scrambled to better cover, coincidentally finding a spot that protected her from the snipers. From there, she watched in horror as two more of her fellows fell to the same strange spell. 

Yaxley wasn't doing much better. He had been pinned down by the smaller-arms fire from the muggle defense squad. Fortunately for him, his position was also one that protected him from the snipers. At that point, Amycus exited the house empty-handed. Seeing their mission had failed and that they now had three dead, the Carrows finally signaled a retreat. Everyone apparated out, leaving the bodies of their dead, and a raucous victory cheer from the defenders, behind.

(_)(_)(_)

Leeds

Nott, Avery, and Runcorn had even less success in Leeds than the Carrows and Yaxley did in Glasgow. Their targets were all far closer to the center of Leeds than the other two sets of targets had been to the center of Cardiff and Glasgow. As a result, there was no convenient hidden spot to apparate to. There were only massive apartment buildings, a single small park whose entire area was viewable from at least one apartment and parking lots. Worse, this close to the center of the city, traffic was already on the move, even at this early hour. That meant that even if by some miracle they managed to escape being noticed by anyone in the apartment buildings, they would still be seen by someone driving by.

They tried their best to arrive unseen, but their group was large enough that even apparating in only two or three at a time, the influx of oddly-dressed people was almost instantly noted. By sheer chance, a member of one of Leeds' defense squads lived in the area and spotted the influx of odd people. Aware of the description of the 'terrorists' they were to defend against, the squad member immediately called his superiors to inform them of the presence of terrorists that fit the described profile. His call actually beat out the house elf/communication mirror relay, if only by a matter of half a minute. 

He then immediately armed himself. Luckily for him, the squads kept their protective gear at home, which meant he had one of the basilisk-hide vests on hand. Since he was on-site and lived in the area, which meant he knew it very well, he was temporarily put in charge of the defense so that the defenders could be deployed to best advantage. Unfortunately, it would take them a few minutes to arrive. In the meantime, he tracked their movements from a distance, ready to start shooting if they started making trouble. In the end, there wouldn't be much left for the defense squad to do when they arrived, however.

Warned by the house-elf watcher, Alliance members were quick to arrive. Quick enough that the Death Eaters hadn't even managed to arrive at their destination yet. They were caught out in the open in a parking lot, surrounded by the Alliance, who were having no mercy whatever on them.

Unfortunately, desperate, cornered men with their lives on the line tend to fight extremely dirty. The Death Eaters were no different. The parking lot and its complement of cars swiftly became a war zone. Only the presence of the cars kept it from being a killing field, as they provided cover from the nastier curses for both sides of the fight.

A few of the more cowardly Death Eaters apparated out early on. The rest ... were caught. Because the Alliance turned their own tricks against them, raising anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards to keep the Death Eaters pinned down and unable to escape. A few, in the midst of the chaos, managed to make it to windows or doors of the nearby apartments, only to discover they couldn't break in, for some reason.

They never discovered that several house elves had popped in to help with the fight, and had sealed the apartment buildings around the battle as best they could to prevent both flying glass and other materials and invasion by unfriendly forces.

It was Runcorn that kept the fight from being a rather ugly rout. He managed to organize five or six of the other Death Eaters who'd ended up around him into something that resembled a team. One of them transfigured a nearby car into a metal wall behind which the group could shoot with relative impugnity, since the metal was a good bit harder to blow up than most other materials. Especially given that while the Alliance wasn't pussyfooting around, they weren't throwing Dark Arts spells or Unforgivables around, both of which generally had the power to blast through metal, and a few of which created something that could eat through it fairly quickly.

Combined with the group acting mostly in concert, it helped equalize the battle somewhat. But only somewhat. The slight relief from being overwhelmed by spellfire did, though, give the group a chance to think and plan and figure out a way out of the situation, given it was fairly clear they weren't going to win.

Another car was transfigured into a second wall, and Runcorn's group began, slowly, to move, gathering their fellows one by one. At least, the ones that were still able to move, anyway. Those that were unconscious or dead were left where they had fallen. It was not, to their view, worth the risk to collect them.

Eventually, they had the remnants of their group sheltered behind transfigured metal walls. At that point, they started concentrating their fire on two areas. One was the direction they intended to flee in until they reached the edge of whatever wards had been erected against them. The spellfire in the other direction was mostly to keep the defenders there pinned down and unable to help their fellows. It would also make it hard to tell which direction they were heading in. Especially since the Death Eaters were willing to change their minds as to which direction they were going to go if the defenders on one side all got knocked out or killed before the defenders on the other side.

When one side finally did go quiet, the Death Eaters headed that way in a mad rush. They were well aware that it could be a trap, but they had to try, or they knew they would all be captured at best. Sure enough, defenders were waiting for them as they got closer to the edge of the wards. Fully half of the remaining group went down under the massed spellfire, metal shields be damned. In the end, only the three group leaders and a single follower managed to make it out from under the wards and apparate to safety.

(_)(_)(_)

Birmingham

Unlike the rest of the groups, Macnair was the sole 'true' Death Eater in his group. Meaning he was the only witch or wizard. The rest of his group was comprised entirely of werewolves and vampires, with four Dementors as supplemental escorts. And unlike the three groups with Muggle targets, Macnair had no intentions of even trying to constrain his group to a single target.

Because Dementors could not be apparated or portkeyed, Macnair had sent the four on ahead the night before, so that they would arrive in the appropriate area of Birmingham about the time the rest of the group would arrive. The rest of the group arrived by portkey, since many of them could not apparate.

Their chosen target was a single massive apartment building. Two Mudbloods lived there, on opposite sides of the huge building. It was Macnair's plan to set Fenrir, Johan, and their fellows loose and do as they would within the building while the Dementors sowed chaos and hopefully suppressed any defense with their depressing auras.

Thanks to using portkeys, and the size of the building involved, Macnair broke his group up and put them down inside the building, unlike the other groups that all opted to arrive outside of the area they planned to attack. This tactic gave Macnair's group a considerable amount of valuable time.

The fact that the place was up to its eyeballs in young, tender, bitable victims was the only reason Fenrir went to the raid without a fight. When it came down to it, he didn't give a shit about Voldemort, the pureblood cause, or any of it. He hated witches and wizards, and that included Voldemort. He'd sooner kill Voldemort himself than live under the bastard's rule. Thing was, the guy let him do what he wanted and didn't raise an eyebrow. Which was more than the rest of the magical world had going for it. So Fenrir was willing to 'work' for the guy until things changed.

He and his followers were portkeyed right into the center of the building. They fanned out quickly, most of them heading to a nearby stairwell to head to other floors. Only Fenrir himself and one other of his fellow wolves remained on this floor. Fenrir took off at a jog, following his nose to the first of what would hopefully be many victims.

Not too far away, Johan and his fellow vampires were doing much the same thing, though they were smart about which doors to kick in. They made sure to only choose apartments on the 'dark' side of the building that didn't get sunlight at dawn.

As with the other targets, the house elf set to watch the area was very quick to go for help. Unfortunately, in this particular case, the battle was not going to be anywhere near as quick and successful as the others in Muggle areas. The apartment building was about to become both war zone and hostage in a nasty, drawn-out fight.

When the defenders - both magical and non - arrived, Macnair, Fenrir, and Johan, along with most of the other werewolves and vampires, were bright enough to barricade themselves in an apartment and take hostages. They were also bright enough, when it became necessary, to simply blast a hole in the floor or wall and head to the next apartment to start all over again.

There was little the defenders could do about it. At least when the first one blasted down into the apartment beneath their current one, they were able to do *something*. The magical defenders were quick to have house elves pop the residents of the rest of the apartments under and around the Death Eaters to safety, thus depriving them of yet more hostages.

Despite the defenders' best efforts, no less than two dozen people were killed and an unknown number were turned - either into vampires or werewolves - over the next few hours. Even with the house elves helping by popping the magical defenders into position in the besieged apartments, it wasn't enough. Neither vampires nor werewolves were easy targets. Both moved inhumanly fast and were far stronger than any but the most dedicated weight lifter could be. While most of them didn't have wands - they didn't really need them. Teeth, claws, and fists were more than enough.

In the end, it was the snipers that turned the tide. Magical and nonmagical defenders put their heads together, and figured out a way to herd the Death Eaters to places where snipers could take them out. The vampires and werewolves couldn't dodge a bullet they didn't see or hear coming.

Better still, dropping the attackers via sniper kept the rest of the attackers from realizing what was going on for quite some time. While breaking glass made a fair bit of noise, it was largely lost under the screaming, crying, and explosions created by the fighting inside the building. Because they were so spread out, the Death Eaters had no idea where the rest of their fellows were at. This kept the Death Eaters from organizing themselves and working in concert, further aiding the efforts to defeat them. After all, regardless of what they may be, a single being is easier to eliminate as a threat than a group working in concert.

By the time the Death Eaters realized they were in trouble and started trying to escape, anti-portkey and anti-apparation wards had been put in place over the entire building. Less than half of the attacking group - which included Fenrir, a wounded Macnair and blanket-wrapped Johan - managed to escape the building via a window. Of that number, only the three leaders managed to reach the edge of the wards and escape entirely.

Unfortunately, while most of the group was killed or knocked unconscious, they left behind a very traumatized group of civilians. With over two dozen dead and an unknown number facing existences as something not-quite-human at best, undead at worst, it was going to be months before the mess made in Birmingham was completely cleaned up.

(_)(_)(_)

Diagon Alley

The plan for the Alley was different than the plan for the Muggle areas. The plan here was not to kill. It was not even to maim, if they could help it. The entire purpose of the Diagon Alley strike was to sow confusion, chaos, and fear ... and to pull as many Aurors and other defenders to the Alley as possible. This would, it was hoped, severely slow down and thin out any defense of the Muggle areas by Ministry sanctioned law enforcers of any description. They'd be too concerned with defending the Alley to bother about mere Muggles.

Which would be why Rabastan got the Diagon Alley job, and not Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Bellatrix couldn't be trusted to not get AK-happy in the middle of a fight, even with both Rodolphus and Rabastan riding herd on her. Best to keep her away from a 'don't kill' job entirely.

Rabastan had picked the coolest heads from their available pool. People who didn't have issues with blood lust and could be counted on to obey orders. To further muddy the waters as to their true purpose, the group were not bedecked in Death Eater regalia. They were all dressed as normal witches and wizards, with glamours hiding their true faces. They all had their Death Eater masks in a pocket in case they became necessary, but the plan was to stick to the glamours, changing them as needed, for as long as possible.

They apparated in small groups into Knockturne Alley. Unlike Diagon Alley, most of the shops down Knockturne were open either twenty-four hours a day or only at night, to facilitate the needs of their clientele. Better still, thanks to what, exactly, that clientele largely consisted of, the appearance of a large number of people was noticed but got no reaction. After all, the arrivals were not clad in Auror red, so there was no need for alarm.

At this hour, Diagon Alley was nearly deserted. Only Gringotts, which was open twenty-four hours, and the Leaky Cauldron were actually open and doing business at this early hour. That said, most of the shop owners and their early-morning assistants had arrived to start opening their shops, and there were a few hardy souls trekking between the pub and Gringotts, either about to do business or having already concluded it. There were a few folks in the apothecary, owl post office, the owl emporium and the general pet shop, as all four places either ran twenty-four hours - the owl post - or had emergency services available - the other three, so that potions and/or their components, or competent care for pets and familiars were available at need.

Rabastan and his group slipped into Diagon Alley in pairs at careful intervals, spacing themselves along the length of the Alley as they went. One of the group had even thought to bring a kitten - stunned unconscious - to lend an air of legitimacy to their presence in Diagon at that hour, and headed at a fairly good clip towards the Menagerie and 'assistance' for their 'ill pet'.

Once everyone was in position in Diagon Alley, the pair closest to the Leaky Cauldron started trouble first - the better to cut off anyone attempting to escape or come to the defense of the Alley from that route. The next closest pair actually joined their non-Death Eater fellows in screaming and running, the better to deflect suspicion. While they did so, they cast a number of spells meant to increase confusion and panic in their targets rather than cause direct injury. That increasingly panicked civilians would get hurt was unavoidable, but they were obeying their directives to not kill or maim anyone on the Alley themselves.

As the chaos moved in a wave down the alley, one by one the Death Eaters fell back behind the panicked crowd, aiming loud noise-maker spells at the crowd and minor blasting hexes at the buildings to either side. The blasting hexes were only just strong enough to make bits of wood and stone fly everywhere, without bringing great chunks down on the fleeing civilians. All of this aided in the perception that the civilians were dead center of a major firefight, without there actually being much of one.

But Sirius' near-constant encouragement to the masses to take up their wands and defend themselves hadn't gone to waste. There was a lot of panic, thanks in large part to the spells cast early in the fracas. However, after the initial shock, many of the witches and wizards that had been able to escape being hit with those spells began to get hold of themselves. They started to take stock of the situation and try to figure out what the heck was going on. And better, who they needed to hex to get it all to stop.

Which meant that right about the time the first Aurors apparated in to assess the situation and calm things down, some of the crowd was starting to turn on their attackers. It was by no means a coordinated defense, thanks in large part to the fact that there were no Death Eater cloaks and masks to make it clear where the enemy was, but quite a few of the shopkeepers and early-hour bankers and shoppers had begun to fight back.

Unfortunately, despite Amelia Bones' best efforts, the Aurors were not nearly as ready to face off against Death Eaters as the Alliance and the Queen's specially selected defense forces were. She had Fudge to thank for that ill-prepared state, as the man still had his head firmly in the sand and refused to admit that Voldemort was back.

After today ... that wasn't going to be a problem anymore. Mostly because after today, Fudge wouldn't have a job anymore. But that was something that would happen later, and wasn't going to help the Aurors now. Fortunately for their sakes, the Alliance, while slower to respond to the Diagon Alley strike because they'd been spread a little thin responding the Muggle area strikes, did still show up.

The vast majority of the Aurors were smart enough to take whatever help they could get, no matter where it came from. Still, getting Diagon Alley sorted out took a while, not least because the Death Eaters *were* there in normal wizarding clothes, and had used glamours. It made it very, very difficult to figure out who, among the crowd, had been shooting at whom since both civilians and Death Eaters had been casting a range of odd spells.


	22. Snake, Grim, and Crown Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - there's lots of violence and death in this chapter, though it's not very explicit. This is the Alliance side of the conflicts.

Snake, Grim, and Crown, Part 2

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. 

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 2, 1992 Cardiff

Having four very alarmed house elves popping in yelling about Death Eaters and four alarms set on Muggleborn homes going off more or less at the same time just at dawn was a hell of a way to wake up. To be brutally honest, given the time of the attacks, if it hadn't been for magic, the Death Eaters would have had a lot more time to do their thing simply because it would have taken longer than five minutes to get dressed and get to the site of the attacks.

Fortunately, not only did the Alliance have magic to speed up getting ready and arriving, they also had planned and practiced extensively over the summer for multiple-pronged attacks such as this. Because of that, everyone knew which team they were on, who they'd be working with, who was in charge of their group, etc. All Sirius had to do was alert the proper number of team leaders and tell them where they'd be going and the numbers they'd be facing if that was known, which in this case it was. The team leaders would then contact their team members and off they'd go.

The Queen's alert system was every bit as quick as hoped. Unfortunately, from there, there was no magical assistance and response time for the nonmagical teams was slower as a result. The Queen had debated with Sirius as to whether or not to have house elves available to pop the teams to the site of the conflict, but eventually the decision had been made that unless the situation was dire, the teams would travel via muggle transportation. 

The Alliance had only so many house elves it could deploy. Granted, with Minerva now Headmistress and willing to allow the Hogwarts elves to actively assist, they had a *lot* more elves than the Death Eaters. That said, they still only had about a hundred and thirty elves, each capable of transporting only about five or six people at a time. While house elves didn't need to be touching something in order to transport it like wizards did, they still had to be within a foot or two of the person or item being transported. It was possible to fit only so many people within that area. Further, like with wizards, mass and composition of what was being transported altered how much energy and effort were required to effect transport. Transporting as many heavily armed people as could fit within the radius of an elf's ability to transport would drain the elf in question pretty badly.

The elves would, therefore, be of more use protecting the muggleborns and muggles under attack and the magical and nonmagical defenders. The elf shields alone were worth their presence in a fight. Wizard shields couldn't be fired through in either direction by spells. Careful experimentation over the summer had proven that some guns could get through some shields, but most of the guns so capable were heavy calibers that were unwieldy to carry on fast maneuvers and/or not all that accurate and thus dangerous to use in urban environments. Elf shields on the other hand allowed the people behind them to shoot at their attackers no matter what they were using to shoot with. Further, while elves lacked the wide range of offensive spells wizards had, picking someone up and flinging them against the nearest solid surface or flinging a big chunk of something heavy at a person at speed was still remarkably effective. Better still, flinging things about or holding a shield against incoming fire took a far sight less energy and effort for the elves.

Then too, the defenders were unsure whether or not the muggle weapons would be damaged by such transport, while electrical equipment definitely would be ruined. The muggle defense teams had been forewarned that electrical equipment couldn't survive long in the presence of magic. They had kept such things to a minimum, but the muggle defense teams did still have a few electrical items that worked at a long enough range to be out of the 'danger zone' of a magical firefight and thus worth bringing along.

What no one knew was whether or not repeated house elf popping or apparation would damage the non electrical equipment. Finding out it did eventually damage the equipment - especially the guns - mid-fight would be a very, very bad thing. The decision had therefore been made to not risk it. The slower response times were worth it to ensure everything was in working condition when they got there.

Sirius more or less fell out of the bed when the racket started. It took him a couple seconds to wake up enough to realize what was happening, and about a minute more to get coherent reports from the house elves. He alerted three teams, and then his own, since it was his turn to go kick Death Eater ass while Remus stayed home.

The other three teams were led by Greengrass, Selwyn, and Moody. Sirius sent Moody to Birmingham. Moody's long Auror career made him one of the best fighters and tacticians in the Alliance. Better still, he had his protégé, Tonks, with him. Having grown up at least partially in the Muggle world, Tonks was far more familiar with it and its peculiarities than most of the members of the Alliance. Both would be needed to deal with an attack in such a heavily populated area. Selwyn, the least practiced of the leaders, was sent to Cardiff, while Greengrass was sent to Glasgow and Sirius went to Leeds.

Selwyn, who'd never actually been to Cardiff, had the house elf assigned to the area in question lead the way. The elf would know better than he would the best places to apparate to without accidentally landing on someone - or worse. He made sure they landed behind the Death Eaters, and with some sort of cover between the two groups so that his group didn't get shot down before they could start hexing.

Seconds after they appeared, Selwyn realized that some of the Death Eaters were already in the house. The screaming was a dead giveaway. Selwyn quickly considered his options for getting the muggles to safety and then sent the house elf assigned to watch the area in.

"Stay invisible so they can't curse you." Selwyn told the elf in a near-whisper. "And the first opportunity you get to get the muggles out of there, take it."

The elf nodded emphatically and popped out.

Selwyn motioned for the members of his team to spread out and find cover from which to hex the Death Eaters. Once everyone was in position, Selwyn started tossing spells, with the rest of his team following his lead.

The first volley was almost amusing. Almost. The Death Eaters had clearly not expected magical defenders to arrive so fast, and got caught with their pants down. It resulted in a lot of fairly inventive cursing and near-comedic dives for cover from the Death Eaters that didn't get hit in the first wave of spells. Of course, at that point, it stopped being even remotely funny because the Death Eaters started throwing Avada's and seriously nasty Dark Arts spells like candy.

The one good bit of news was that the sudden appearance of defenders had evidently distracted even the Death Eaters in the house. At least, Selwyn assumed so, given there was a feminine-sounding scream of rage from inside the house towards the tail end of that first surprise volley. Most of the Death Eaters came racing back out but someone had remained inside. It was the only explanation for half the upper storey's front wall exploding out towards the street.

A temper tantrum like combined with a feminine voice made it pretty clear who one particular Death Eater they were dealing with was. Voldemort didn't have all that many women in his fighting forces, and there was only one who was crazy enough to blow up part of a house while she was inside the thing and her own people were in the line of fire of the debris.

Selwyn cursed under his breath and concentrated his spell fire on Bellatrix's mostly open and unprotected position. At least one of his team correctly identified Bellatrix and the threat she presented, because they joined him in concentrating their spells in her direction. Between them, they managed to knock her off the upper storey and right onto some other Death Eater.

That resulted in a probable identification for that particular Death Eater, as there were only so many Death Eaters that would defend one of their fellows. There were even fewer that would risk trying to protect Bellatrix, who'd had a reputation in the first war for hexing her own people if they dared 'interfere' with her in any way. Thus the Death Eater that threw a shield over himself and Bellatrix was very probably either her husband or her brother-in-law.

Right about then, the first of the Muggle defenders arrived - namely the snipers. Unfortunately, it looked like it was going to be a race as to whether or not they actually got to take part in the fight, because after a brief conference with Bellatrix, her defender signaled to the other Death Eaters, who promptly started apparating out. Surprisingly, one of the snipers did manage to take out two Death Eaters before they made good their escape.

Selwyn's team converged on him, and they spent a few minutes comparing notes on numbers and suspected identities of the Death Eaters they'd faced. Most of the older folks in his group correctly identified Bellatrix, and about half of those had figured out the probable identity of her protector. A few had recognized familiar-sounding voices. Selwyn had no idea if knowing who was in the group would help in the future, but it was worth taking note.

Fortunately, no one in his group had taken anything worse than cuts and bruises from flying debris. The fight had been too short and too much of a surprise to the Death Eaters for more than that. About the time he'd wrapped up with his group and was ready to send them on home, the rest of the muggle defense squad arrived and started dealing with the aftermath. Selwyn sent his people to help where they could, then searched out the leader of the group for a brief talk.

(_)(_)(_)

Glasgow

Greengrass was a bit surprised when the elf from Glasgow warned him that the locals were trying to fight back against the Death Eaters.

"Well damn. That's not going to end well. We're going to have to come in well back and to one side, if at all possible, of the conflict or we're going to get caught in the crossfire or worse, the locals will think we're part of the problem and turn on us."

The elf nodded grimly in agreement. "I brings yous to a good spot." He promised.

He did, too. Still, Greengrass had a very nerve-wracking minute or so after he and his group arrived. They had to find shelter from spell fire and hope to Merlin the locals didn't turn on them. Fortunately, after a very tense minute, the locals visibly decided Greengrass and his group weren't a problem, and Greengrass could breathe a sigh of relief.

Better, Greengrass had only just sent the elf to rescue the Muggles being attacked in their home when the muggle Glasgow defense group arrived to back them up. That was especially fortunate, as the Death Eaters were having a lot of fun targeting the local defenders, who had neither the knowledge nor the equipment to fight back properly for the most part, though Greengrass did spot a couple guns in the mix.

The hail of gunfire was both remarkably effective and quite disconcerting for Greengrass to watch. Oh, he'd heard all about this, and had even seen a demonstration earlier in the summer. But the demonstration had been under controlled practice conditions, not like this.

For about two minutes, there was a heck of a firefight going on. Thanks to mostly being out in the open, the Death Eaters definitely got the worst of it. When the survivors finally managed to apparate out, it was clear that there were at least three dead.

Greengrass gathered his group to him, and like Selwyn, they compared notes. They were a bit less successful in identifying Death Eaters, as there hadn't been any real standouts like Bellatrix in the bunch. They had also suffered a bit more damage, though two broken bones was the worst of it. That done, Greengrass sent his group to help with the cleanup and headed off to find the leader of the defense group.

"So. How many did we lose? I saw at least one body being dragged out of the line of fire as we arrived, but I have no idea if they were just hurt or what."

"Four dead that we know of for sure." The defense group leader growled. "All before either of us arrived. Another eight or so badly hurt, and who knows how many with scrapes and bruises. Ambulances are already en route. No idea if we'll find anyone else under the debris."

"I've got my people working on getting the debris out of the way." Greengrass told the man. "If anyone's under the mess, we'll know shortly, and hopefully be able to keep them alive. I've a competent ... " Greengrass hesitated a second, trying to remember the proper muggle term. " ... nurse ... in my group who can help with the minor injuries so your ambulance crews can concentrate on the badly injured."

"That'd be appreciated." The defense leader said.

Greengrass nodded, then quickly sent a patronus message to the appropriate person on his team. He had a feeling they were probably already helping the wounded, but being seen ordering it would help, and there was always the chance they weren't working with the injured.

"I'll admit." He said. "I wasn't expecting locals to go on the offensive. Not this early in the day, and definitely not in what looked to be a fairly organized way." He sighed. "We're going to have to make a few additional plans to deal with that sort of thing. I don't think we're always going to be so lucky as to have local defenders opt to not start attacking us."

The muggle leader nodded. "Yeah, and even if they do realize you're on their side at the start - if a fight lasts long enough or people get wound up enough, they can end up being a problem for us as well as the bad guys. People in big groups tend to be very dumb, panicky, and easily influenced."

"It's a problem we really haven't had to deal with much." Greengrass admitted. "There's few enough of us that even big events don't have all that many people present unless they're international events. Biggest we get with just locals is our sports events, and those get a thousand people at most."

That made the muggle blink. "Only a thousand at a sports event?" He echoed. "That is small. Most sports events in our part of the world run to at least five thousand attendees. For the really big games it can be well into the tens of thousands."

Those sorts of numbers boggled Greengrass' mind. There were at most thirty thousand sentient magical beings in the UK, with the vast majority of the population split between wizards and goblins, at close to thirteen thousand each. The rest was divided between Veelas, werewolves (Greengrass only counted those that had started life as muggles separately from 'wizards'), vampires (again, only those that started life as muggles counted), centaurs, mermaids, house elves, elder Acromantulas and now apparently dragons, if the reports from Romania and the UK dragon reserves were anything to go by. Consequently, the wizarding population of the UK was literally incapable of the sorts of numbers this muggle was rattling off under most circumstances. Because of that, most purebloods really had no concept for those sorts of crowds. The closest they got were the international Quidditch games - and relatively few people went to those due to the expenses involved, especially if a UK team wasn't playing.

(_)(_)(_)

Leeds

Sirius lost no time at all conferring with the house elf that had been assigned as watcher for the Leeds area that was under attack.

"Theys be walking to whichever home theys be going to, Master Black sir." The elf told him. "There is being lots of places to stop them from reaching they's goal."

"Right." Sirius said. "Lead us to somewhere between them and the nearest Muggleborn home." Sirius said, then turned his attention to his group. "Bill, you're in charge of putting wards up once we've got a spot to pin them down sorted. I don't want any of them escaping if we can help it."

Bill Weasley nodded. "You got it." He said.

The house elf led them to a rather interesting area. There was an apartment building behind them, a street on one side, and in front of them, a parking lot. Beyond it was another apartment building, clearly not the Death Eaters' goal, as they were heading towards Sirius and his group. Sirius didn't know or care if the apartment building behind him was their goal or not. They weren't going to be allowed to get that far.

"You lot." He said, pointing to a group. "Swing wide around the lot and get behind them. Bill, as soon as they're all in the lot, put the wards up. And you." He pointed to the elf that had led the way. "Get a couple of your buddies and do what you can to make sure the Death Eaters don't get into either apartment building if they manage to get past us."

Those so named took off to do the jobs assigned to them. Sirius directed the rest to find themselves spots spread out throughout the parking lot, and found shelter himself behind a small van.

Sirius let the Death Eaters get close to the center of the parking lot before he started firing hexes. He wanted to make it as difficult for the Death Eaters to escape as humanly and magically possible. The rest of his team was fast to follow his lead. Fortunately, at this early hour there weren't a whole bunch of people in the lot itself, even though there was a fair bit of traffic on the roads and people moving about. The few civilians in the parking lot wisely beat a hasty retreat when the spells started zinging everywhere.

The first minute or so was something of a rout. The Death Eaters collapsed under the initial hail of spellfire and couldn't seem to regain their equilibrium quickly enough. Then, unfortunately, one of the lot got their head out of their ass and managed to start organizing a resistance.

That's when things started getting ugly. The Death Eaters managed to get behind a wall Sirius and company couldn't hex them through - at least not unless they were willing to resort to Dark Arts or worse the Unforgivables. Sirius wasn't willing to risk a house elf's life by asking them to pop into the little bunker the Death Eaters had whipped up, either.

A few of the poor blighters who hadn't been lucky enough to be gathered into the halfway organized group of Death Eaters tried to escape the trap set for them, but didn't get very far. Only two managed to get as far as the apartment buildings still on their feet and more or less in one piece. Of course, at that point they got stymied yet again because the house elves were doing something to hold them off. Sirius had no idea what they'd done, but whatever it was, it worked.

Right about the time the stragglers were all either dead or out of the fight for the duration, the muggle defenders arrived. More or less at the same time, the surviving group of Death Eaters decided to get really nasty. It didn't take long for Sirius to figure out their plan and organize his people accordingly. He let the Death Eaters shoot hexes for a while, having instructed one side to keep firing and the other to slowly, one by one, stop firing spells, as if they'd gotten taken out of the fight one way or the other.

Sure enough, before the snipers could get to the roofs of the apartment buildings and get set up to start shooting, the Death Eaters fell for the trap, and headed straight for the group that had stopped hexing. Meanwhile, with their attention fixed on one point, the group that hadn't stopped firing hexes started edging forward using the cars in the lot as cover.

The resulting firefight was more than a little hairy. There was at least one muggle putting bullets where they'd do the most good, possibly more. Sirius was paying too much attention to the incoming spells to really note how many guns he heard going off, and from where. More than once in the next couple of minutes a spell missed him by the narrowest of margins as his group worked to bring the Death Eaters down. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, about five of them somehow managed to get away.

Once the shooting stopped, Sirius motioned for his group to go through the lot and truss up the few Death Eaters who hadn't been killed either by the Alliance or by their fellows, and to triage the ones that were hurt. The leader of the local defense force made his way to the lot, and Sirius headed over to him, nodding a greeting.

"Sorry your boys didn't get in on more of the fun." Sirius said. "Anybody in your group get hurt?"

"No. Yours?"

Sirius shook his head. "Bunch of scrapes and bruises, but we had them scrambling to do too much more than that." Oh, the Death Eaters had been flinging heavy duty Dark Arts spells, of course, but they'd been so pressured and rushed their aim had been for shit. Just the way Sirius liked it.

"I've got some of my boys cordoning off the area to keep folks out until we've got the place cleaned up."

"That'll help." Sirius said. There were already a damn lot of witnesses that would need to be obliviated here alone, nevermind the other places. At least there wouldn't be more folks than absolutely necessary who'd see something they oughtn't. Sirius might want the wizard and muggle worlds to unite, but this was definitely not the way or the time to do it.

(_)(_)(_)

Birmingham

Moody didn't know it, but he was in for a very long and trying day. The house elf who'd been watching the apartment building warned them that the Death Eaters had arrived by portkey right into the apartment building's hallways.

"Damn and blast, but that's going to make things difficult." Moody growled. "All right, I want you to go and get as many of your fellows as are willing to lend a hand - we're going to need them. Then come back and lead the way to the building."

The elf nodded and disappeared. Moody turned his attention to the rest of his group. "We're up against Dark Creatures." He warned them after the last member had arrived. "Dementors, vampires and werewolves for sure. They portkeyed straight into the building, so this is going to be an ugly fight. I want four people on the outside of the building setting up anti portkey and apparation wards over the entire building and as much real estate around it as you can possibly manage as fast as you can get it done. I want another four to go with them and guard their backs. The rest of you, arm yourselves heavily, and for Merlin's sake don't get bit."

From there, he broke the group up into pairs, the better to cover more territory. Tonks planted herself at his side without him having to say a word. Moody was rather fond of the girl. She may have been a Hufflepuff, but she had inherited enough of the Black cunning and ruthlessness to make her dangerous. Actually, she was almost more dangerous than even Sirius, because folks expected danger from Gryffindors and Slytherins. They didn't generally expect it from Hufflepuffs, which allowed Tonks to pull off stunts others couldn't.

Despite his wooden leg, Moody could still move with speed and purpose when he needed to. The situation in the apartment building definitely required it. He cloaked himself in a smell-cancelling and sound-cancelling spell, the better to sneak up on beings whose hearing far surpassed a human's.

When they apparated in, following the house elf, the place was pretty much pure chaos. There were people everywhere, screaming and running, trying to escape the rampaging vampires and werewolves. A few folks were trying to fight back, for all the good it did them against such foes.

Their opponents proved frustratingly intelligent and elusive, slipping from apartment to apartment, putting civilians between themselves and the would-be defenders. Oh, Moody managed to get a few of them, and Tonks added her own victories to the tally, but they were too few, and taking too long.

Finally, a patronus arrived, informing him that the wards were up, that the dementors were being unfortunately persistent, and that the muggle defense team had arrived, and was sending people in.

That helped. At least somewhat, by having additional eyes to watch your back if nothing else. Though the additional numbers did mean they managed to set a few traps. They'd manage to get people into position below and to either side of a temporarily trapped vampire or werewolf and flush the bastard out, forcing them right into another enemy with no living shields in sight to save their asses. The house elves kept busy popping people out of the line of fire as much as they could, which helped. Unfortunately, the little buggers, while clever and capable, couldn't read minds to predict what someone was going to do next, so sometimes they didn't manage to get people out of the way in time.

Moody growled. They'd managed to rack up a few dead or otherwise taken out of the fight creatures, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough, nor fast enough.

"C'mon girl, we're going to see if the muggles can come up with anything. At this rate, everyone in this damn building is going to end up either dead or worse." Moody growled.

"Right behind you, Moody." Tonks said.

They made their way outside, and found the leader of the muggle defense force and a few of his fellows in the center of a wide ring of the folks Moody had sent to put up the wards. Those people were taking turns with patroni, keeping four exceptionally persistent Dementors at bay. The muggle defenders, who couldn't see the things, looked more than a little confused, but had been smart enough to stay where they'd been put.

"Bloody bastards are having entirely too much fun in there, and it's taking too long to take them out one at a time." Moody growled. "They're using the folks in there against us."

That made the muggle leader frown. "I've had a similar report from my own people." He admitted. "If we could just bring the snipers into this it'd help ... "

"What's making it so that can't happen?" Moody wanted to know.

"Knowing where they'll be, and them staying still long enough for the snipers to get a clean shot." The leader said.

"That, we can do. Tell your boys to watch for windows that turn bright green. There'll be someone for them to put a hole in on the other side. We'll even disappear the glass, so they get a nice clean look."

"That will work." The man said, and then turned to face another apartment building across the road and started waving his arms in a definite pattern.

Moody didn't bother wasting time asking questions, he just sent a patronus to his people telling them what to do, then turned and headed back into the building himself.

From there, things went a bit easier. Herding the creatures into an apartment was painfully easy, since most of them wanted to be in the apartments in the first place. From there, it did take a bit of finagling to turn the window nearest the Death Eater's position green without them noticing, then keep them in that area until either their own spell work or the snipers got to them. 

They managed to do a lot of damage before the creatures started wising up and started trying to escape. Not that they managed that too well. Not with a bunch of people outside with guns and wands waiting to turn them into worm food.

Unfortunately, the mess wasn't over with once the damned things were out and the dementors finally gave up and took off. Moody had an apartment building - well over a hundred people strong - full of dead, injured, or turned/infected individuals that he was going to have to deal with.

The muggle defender group was invaluable when it came to the cleanup. They managed to organize a bunch of ambulances to deal with the folks who'd managed to get out of this with only cuts, bruises, broken bones or vampire bites that hadn't had time to be expanded into them being turned.

Of course, Moody and his group had to sort everyone. Every body had to be examined to ensure it hadn't been turned, and every injured person had to have a spell cast on them to see if they'd been infected with lycanthropy. By the time that had been accomplished, and Obliviators from the Ministry finally arrived to help with that part of the cleanup, Moody was exhausted.

He had, by some miracle, managed not to lose any of his own people. Several of them would have scars to remember today by, and some of those would like their meat rarer than they used to, or get a bit tetchy come the full moon, but that was the worst of the damage.

The civilians had been nowhere near that lucky, and that pissed Moody off. He'd never felt any pity for magicals that got their asses beat in a fight, because they'd all learned the same spells at Hogwarts and everyone had at least some ability to fight back, but almost never seemed to do so. Here, however, it was a completely different matter. These folks hadn't a clue what they were up against, and other than a few well-trained individuals, most muggles didn't have a prayer against a werewolf or a vampire. Worse, they hadn't asked to be involved in this fight, nor had they asked to become casualties of a war they oughtn't to even know was occurring. The folks as had been turned or infected were going to have a very, very, very rough time of it in the days, weeks, and months to come.

Moody was, however, pragmatic to a fault, and was already turning over ideas to make future fights of this type go more in the Alliance's favor. First item on the agenda was a crash course in the muggle world for everyone. They needed to be able to understand and operate in the muggle world at least halfway competently if they were going to be fighting in it any kind of regularly. Hopefully there would be muggleborns willing to help with that, or muggle raised halfbloods. He'd have to talk to Sirius about it later.


	23. Meetings

Meetings

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. 

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 5, Hogwarts 1992

Becoming not only a teacher, but a Head of House was going to take some getting used to, Perenelle Flamel decided. She and her husband had lived in near-total seclusion for much of the last several centuries. Suddenly being around and interacting with several hundred people on a daily basis was a bit jarring and overwhelming.

Discovering Albus' betrayal and manipulations had been a harsh blow. He had been one of the few the Flamels had had extended contact with during their seclusion. Nicholas had taken it especially hard, as he had considered Albus a bright, promising young man and while not quite an apprentice, definitely the next best thing to it during the years they'd worked together on the uses of dragon's blood (and other projects). For Merlin's sake, she and Nicholas had even debated the wisdom, at one point, of offering Albus some Elixir. They had decided against it, obviously, but still. That was how much a part of their lives he had become for a time.

They had talked extensively after the surprise return of the Stone and the revelation of what Albus had been up to with it, then again shortly after Albus had been killed when Headmistress McGonagall contacted them about the possibility of them joining her staff for the year. They had decided that in the face of having been so thoroughly taken in, it was perhaps a good idea to reconnect with people and hopefully restore some of their faith in their fellow humans. Otherwise, it would be far too easy for them to cut off all contact, and in the end that would do them more harm than good. Having only each other for company until such time as they agreed to stop taking the Elixir would doubtlessly drive them both quite thoroughly insane.

She didn't think either of them had planned on the year being quite this exciting, however. The five-pronged Death Eater attack had had the school buzzing the last few days. From comments made by both staff and students, the situation was neither unique nor likely to be the last such event, either. Which meant they would be dealing with more such news at some point in the future. 

The whole thing had pointed out to them both just how isolated they had become. For Merlin's sake, they had viewed both Grindelwald and Voldemort as 'not their problem'. Which, after just a few weeks back in the wizarding world, they both realized had been a very foolish train of thought. Sooner or later, it would have become their problem even if they'd been totally isolated. Both men had, after all, wanted to conquer the world. And Voldemort still did have that goal in mind.

Most of the children had been varying shades of grim-faced, worried and apprehensive in the face of such a dire event. Most of her Gryffindors had been muttering darkly as well. One of the few exceptions to the grim atmosphere was young Mr. Potter and his cohorts, who while serious enough, did not appear overly worried or upset. It had taken a quick discussion with the Headmistress to discover why, as Perenelle had been unaware of the lad's home situation. For that matter, she was unaware of the home situation of any of her Gryffindors.

Which was a matter she intended to fix. Hence her appearance in the Gryffindor Common room first thing in the morning the Saturday after school started. She planned to have a quick meeting with the entire House, then meet with as many of them as she could in private both today and tomorrow, then get the rest of them next weekend.

She was a bit startled and quite amused when she arrived to discover two seventh years and a fifth year curled up on various bits of furniture sound asleep. The fifth year seemed to have already begun to revise for their OWLs, if the notes and what looked to be a first-year level text on Charms were any indication. Perenelle couldn't quite decide if that was smart of them, or overzealous. The two seventh years seemed to have merely succumbed to sleep after a long night of gossiping.

She was going to have to do something about that. Oh, she didn't mind them staying up and gossiping, or studying in the Common Room, but falling asleep in the chairs would do none of the children a bit of good. She'd have a word with the house elves later, see if they'd be willing to either come get her to chase the children off to bed or put them to bed themselves after the children fell asleep. In the meantime, she walked over and gently woke the three students.

She very nearly laughed at their reactions, which made it clear that Headmistress McGonagall, their previous Head of House had been held in a healthy amount of respect mixed with a bit of apprehension, as the first thing out of all three's mouths was some version of apology combined with McGonagall's name. Once they woke up enough to remember that McGonagall was not their Head of House anymore, they'd stumbled over themselves to apologize again, this time for mistaking Perenelle for the Headmistress.

"It's quite all right, children. I've only been your Head of House a few days. It will take you time to adjust. Now, you should all go upstairs and refresh yourselves. And if you would be so kind as to tell your Housemates there will be a brief House Meeting before breakfast, I would appreciate it."

"Sure thing, Professor." One of the seventh years said, and then the three made good their escape. Perenelle made herself comfortable in a chair by the fireplace to wait for the Gryffindors to pile into the room.

(_)(_)(_)

House Meetings seemed to definitely be the theme of the day, as Filius was holding one himself with his Ravens. He had, however, forewarned them the night before of the meeting.

He didn't think some of them were going to like the meeting all that much. Filius had been made aware of a situation that was brewing in the girls' dorms. It wasn't quite full-on bullying yet, but it was definitely heading that route and would reach that stage very soon if he didn't nip it in the bud.

Apparently, one of his new female Ravens, Luna Lovegood, was the subject of more than a little mockery in the girl's dorms. Filius had to admit the girl was ... unusual, to not put too fine a point on it. Having been 'unusual' himself in his time as a student at Hogwarts, Filius was not amused by the girls' mockery of Luna. 

They were lucky in that they had only said a few things to her thus far, and always in the relative privacy of the girl's dorms, where Filius himself wouldn't overhear them. According to the house elves now tasked with keeping an eye on things in the dorms in the evenings, two of the girls had been (somewhat idly, for the moment) contemplating the advisability of doing more than the occasional verbal mockery, though. Which was why they'd brought the matter to Filius' attention. A few comments were one thing - unfortunate, yes, but virtually unavoidable, not to mention literally impossible to stop. More than a couple comments, however, wasn't going to be tolerated.

Filius settled himself on the chair built to his dimensions. The chair was generally tucked into a corner of the Common Room, though he knew the occasional first year had used it - before they realized who it was 'intended' for. Not that Filius would have begrudged them the use of the chair, but they generally eschewed using the chair after they found out it was 'his'.

About ten minutes after he'd gotten settled, most of the sixth and seventh years trooped down the stairs from their rooms. The fifth years and the remainder of the sixth and seventh years appeared a minute later, followed quickly by the second, third, and fourth years. The first years took a bit longer, mostly because they were unfamiliar both with their room and the Tower as well as being in school at all in general still, and thus took a bit to get organized and moving. Once the last of the first years found a seat, Filius cleared his throat.

"First of all, as this is the first chance I've had to meet with everyone for more than five minutes." Which had happened the first night. "Welcome back to my returning Ravens, and Welcome to our new Ravens. I mentioned this on the first, but if you have any concerns, or need assistance with your schoolwork, do not hesitate to seek me out. I will be more than happy to assist you, or point you in the direction of someone who would be willing to tutor you. For the fifth and seventh years, I will begin hosting revision sessions starting in January. Obviously, attendance is not mandatory, but you may find it helps with your OWL and NEWT preparations."

There were nods from the fifth and seventh years, who had heard that announcement in years past, and the seventh years had all participated in the revision sessions when they were fifth years.

Then Filius straightened in his seat and gave the assembled Ravens a flat, more-than-slightly-annoyed look. "In less pleasant news, it has come to my attention that certain Ravens seem to be under the misapprehension that the rule change as outlined by Headmistress McGonagall is not in earnest. I assure you that it is. Anyone caught bullying a fellow student will be subject to most stringent correction of their behavior. And you *will* be caught, make no mistake about that. I strongly urge those of you contemplating a future as bullies to cease and desist now. I would be *most* disappointed and displeased if Ravenclaw were to be the first House to see a member censured for bullying."

The guilty parties, predictably, got very shifty-eyed and squirmy. One of them shot an angry, assessing look at their fellows, as if trying to ferret out who had informed Filius of their behavior. That one, Filius would be keeping an eye on. The rest seemed a bit ashamed of themselves, at least for the moment. That one just looked upset at having been caught and ratted out.

(_)(_)(_)

Pomona, in her turn, wasn't quite having an actual meeting with her Badgers, but it had long been her habit to spend a considerable amount of time on the weekends in the Sett. Pomona had a well-deserved reputation as the most approachable and personable of the senior staff at Hogwarts. Filius ran a close second, relegated to that position largely by the awe in which he was held in many quarters due to his dueling titles and a slightly - *slightly* - more standoffish personality.

By the time she arrived, most of her Badgers were up and awake. Most of the sixth years were in a huddle with the first years, talking animatedly. From what Pomona overheard as she passed them, it was a mix of homework assistance and explanations of the various oddities of the castle. Meaning which steps needed to be hopped over lest you fall through, what the best shortcuts were, passwords and or actions to take to access some of the stair and corridors that had such measures, and the like. 

Both the sixth and fourth year Hufflepuffs acted as guides for the first year Badgers, unlike in the other Houses, where such things were the sole purview of the prefects. Pomona had encouraged the situation from her earliest days as Head of House, as she found it had helped immensely with House cohesion and fostered a far more real sense of 'family'. In the case of the fourth years, it also gave her a much-needed preview of who might be the best choice for Prefect come fifth year.

The rest of her Badgers were dotted all over the common room. Most of them were studying. Despite the House's reputation as 'duffers' and 'near-Squibs', the Badgers were generally right behind the Ravenclaws scholastically. That had as much to do with the fact that Hufflepuff House, unlike Gryffindor and Slytherin, didn't have an intense House rivalry with another House as any other reason. It meant they didn't spend a lot of time they could have used to study antagonizing the members of another House, thinking up pranks to play on them, and the like. Between that and the Hufflepuff trait of being hard-working, Badgers tended to get quite good grades, though they admittedly didn't come by them as easily as the Ravenclaws tended to.

Pomona had just gotten settled when one of her second year Badgers got up from their seat and walked over, parchment in hand.

"Professor Sprout? Professor Flamel set us an essay on the different ways five different plants were prepared for potions, and what the different preparation methods did to the plants. I've got most of the methods for all five written down but I could swear I've forgotten something. I might not've, but would you mind looking at the list?"

"Not at all." She said, and took the parchment. A quick glance proved that the list was indeed complete ... with the exception of one method used with one of the plants in question. "Ahhh, you did miss something out. You forgot about crushing with this plant." She pointed.

The second year glanced at the list and then rolled their eyes and gave an exasperated groan. "Thanks, Professor. I could swear I thought I'd put that down already." They quickly jotted the addition down and then returned to their seat.

Pomona knew the child could have asked one of the older students, but most of her Badgers preferred to seek her out whenever plants came up in an assignment, particularly in Potions. She did, after all, have to know how plant parts were used in potions because it frequently involved special growing conditions or harvesting times as well as specific preparation methods. She'd be a pretty poor Herbologist if she couldn't supply the correct plants to the myriad of potioneers that were the primary consumers of her growing efforts.

(_)(_)(_)

Things were not nearly so peaceful in Slytherin House as they were in the other Houses. Slytherin House had, to put it bluntly, been at war from the first day of school. Oh, not a blatant, wands-out-and-casting-spells war, but a war nonetheless.

The war had two fronts. The first, and most vicious, was between Severus, with assistance from the House Elves, and the eldest remaining Voldemort supporters in his House. Those children persisted in attempting to room together, meet together, and otherwise join forces. When they weren't doing that, they were attempting to throw their weight around against their fellow Slytherins. Thwarting them was proving to be a nearly full-time endeavor for both Severus and his house elf assistants. 

Two of the brats were dangerously close to being suspended already, as they were proving to be remarkably resistant to Severus' attempt to curb them and it would be only a matter of time before he had to resort to suspension. He was trying not to do that, as he was aware that the supporter children thus suspended would be unlikely to return to Hogwarts. Severus was reluctant to give up on *children* so early in the game, though he would not hesitate to see them suspended or expelled if they actually tried to hurt someone. Thus far they had contented themselves with verbal attacks.

The second front was between the Voldemort supporter students and the rest of the House, whether neutral or Light-side. Amazingly, Draco had managed to wriggle his way to leadership of that faction, despite being only a second year, and previously known to be the 'prince' of the Voldemort supporter faction.

Severus wasn't quite sure whether to be appalled or pleased by the methods that Draco had employed to become the leader of the anti-Voldemort faction. It had involved rather a lot of very plain speaking as to Voldemort's aims, his track record of hexing his own people for little to no reason, and the methods by which Voldemort had attempted to rule the wizarding world the first time around.

"Which." As Draco had put it repeatedly. "Shows a want of everything Slytherin House is supposed to stand for. Really, anyone siding with him has no more Slytherin qualities than the most dunderheaded Gryffindor. Sure, purebloods are just better, and we should really have the power in the wizarding world, but there HAS to be a more Slytherin way to get there than what Voldemort's trying to pull."

Severus hadn't been able to decide whether to be appalled at Draco's very Gryffindorish blunt speaking, or pleased at the efficacy of Draco's chosen methods.

Severus might have been worried about Draco saying purebloods were better if he hadn't caught the offhand way Draco said it. To an experienced ear, it was clear Draco didn't really believe that, but was saying it because it was a commonly held belief in pureblood circles, whether one was an elitist or not. There would come a time to tear down that sort of thinking, but at this point in time, they had bigger fish to fry.

Severus was in Slytherin Dorm well before dawn, called to the dorms by one of the elves. While the elves were eminently capable of forcibly hauling recalcitrant children where they were supposed to be rather than where they wanted to be, they'd figured out fast that Severus' presence added a certain fillip to the proceedings. Mostly because his Snakes knew very well to be afraid of him when he was on the warpath. 

It had been rare prior to Minerva becoming Headmistress, but Severus going on the warpath *had* happened, and student memories were long. Especially when tales of his few rampages got exaggerated beyond all belief as the stories were handed down. Severus was not above taking advantage of that, especially when it helped him retain control of the more troublesome elements of his House.

Today marked the first of the compulsory meetings Severus planned to subject his House to. Though today's lesson would, perhaps, be less fraught than future ones would prove to be. Well, either that or it would be the most difficult lesson. Severus wasn't quite sure which way his Snakes would fall.

Severus stalked down the boy's dorm corridor. The perpetrators the elves had warned him of were standing in a knot at the very end. Having been deprived of the ability to room together, it looked like they had decided to drag a few chairs into the corridor and meet up there.

"Gentlemen. And I do use that term loosely." Severus growled. "I would very much like to know what it is you think you are doing."

"Just friends talking." One claimed.

Severus just cocked an eyebrow, arms folded over his chest, and didn't bother with a verbal retort. "Detention for each of you. Mr. Gibbon, you will report to my office Monday night. Mr. Bletchley, you will report on Teusday night. Mr. Thicknesse, you will report on Wednesday. Now, Mr. Gibbon is going to return to his room and clothe himself appropriately, as there is a House meeting in half an hour and he will not be late. You two, come with me." Severus commanded. When all three hesitated, he shot them a glare. "Now." He barked.

They moved.

Severus firmly pointed the two boys who followed him out to the common room to separate seats, then settled himself in a chair near the largest portrait in the common room. Salazar would arrive in a few moments, and speak to the House from there.

The rest of Severus' Snakes began to arrive. Severus ensured that the Voldemort supporters didn't sit next to each other, but otherwise let them sit where they would. Salazar arrived just after the first arrivals, and Severus nodded respectfully but did not engage him in conversation as he was too busy keeping a close eye on everyone as they arrived.

Once everyone had arrived and taken a seat, Severus stood. The action was sufficient to gain the attention of his Snakes.

"Welcome to the first of the compulsory lessons you will all be attending. I see some of you actually thought to bring quill and parchment. Congratulations on your foresight. The rest of you ... pay attention. There will be a quiz at a later date. Hold all questions until the end of the lesson." Severus then turned towards the big portrait. "Salazar, they are yours."

Salazar walked 'forward' in his borrowed painting until he was nearly life-size. "Greetings, students. Today, we will be discussing the concept of 'history is written by the victor', and the idiotic incompetence of those I must unfortunately claim as my descendants."

(_)(_)(_)

Harry had spent much of the last few days concentrating on not worrying. It was surprisingly difficult. Part of him insisted on trying to fret and worry about Voldemort and what he was up to, and about Sirius and Remus despite the fact he knew that Sirius had come away from the conflict on the second without so much as a scratch. And that they both were having entirely too much fun banging heads together in the Wizengamot. Sirius, when they talked over the mirrors at night, all but bounced and invariably had a huge, shit-eating grin on his face as he told about the day's exploits. Still, Harry wanted to worry, and had to concentrate in order to not.

Fortunately, Hedwig, Hermione and Neville picked up on his rather unsettled state and had been more than willing to provide distractions in the evenings. Amusingly, Hermione really hadn't had to try to find a way to distract Harry. Keeping her from harassing the Flamels had been nearly a full-time job, leaving only the odd moments when she wasn't around for Neville and Hedwig to deal with. Now, though, he had the entire weekend with not much to do, since he had all but one assignment completed. The incomplete assignment was halfway done, to boot, and would only take an hour or so to complete.

But then, when Harry went down to the common room, Hedwig riding on his shoulder, Mrs. Flamel was there. Harry hid a grin as he shot a glance at the stairs to the girl's dorm. He was pretty sure Mrs. Flamel had *no clue* what she was letting herself in for by making herself available like this. Hermione had been dying of curiosity since the Flamels had been identified at the Sorting Feast. She wasn't alone. Harry had been curious too. He was just better at keeping his curiosity to himself.

//I don't suppose you'd bet on the odds of Hermione asking Mrs. Flamel questions.// He asked Hedwig.

Hedwig laughed. //Not a chance. I might be tempted to offer odds on the number of questions asked, but not on whether or not she actually asks. That is a given.//

Harry settled into a chair close to the girls' stairwell so he at least had a chance to grab Hermione before she headed straight for Mrs. Flamel.

The meeting itself was pretty quick, basically Mrs. Flamel letting them know her office door was open if they needed anything, when Quidditch tryouts would take place, sign up sheets for the various clubs were on the notice board, and that sort of thing. Then she said she wanted to meet with all of them at least briefly in private.

"I would like to get to know all of you at least a little bit." Mrs. Flamel said. "And this will give you a chance to air any concerns or questions you may have that you don't feel comfortable bringing up with the entire House listening in."

//She's going to end up regretting that idea.// Harry told Hedwig while he shot Hermione an amused look. //Think I should warn her?//

//I don't think you'll get the chance.// Hedwig pointed out. While she wasn't quite laughing, she was very close to it. //Not unless she does the boys first, rather than going alphabetically.//

//Good point.// Harry said. //Ah well. We can always go rescue her if it becomes necessary, right?//

//I'm sure you can tail them, under your cloak// Hedwig agreed, still sounding very amused.

(_)(_)(_)

It's amazing how much can change in a year's time. A year ago today, Draco had been spoiled, arrogant, utterly sure of his place in the world and more. A year later, and the only bit that remained was the fact that he was spoiled, and that only because it was the only thing that couldn't be changed. His parents had spoiled him for the first eleven years of his life, and nothing would change that.

Everything else? Had changed. Everything he'd thought he knew, thought was sure and good and right, had either gotten thrown in the trash or was thrown into question, frequently in the most brutal way possible. Draco still wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do, where he was going to go from here. He didn't think he'd figure that out for a while. But he did know one thing.

He was going to keep as many of his fellow Slytherins out of Voldemort's clutches as he could. Having been exposed to the truth of what it meant to be a Death Eater, there was no way in hell that Draco was going to leave his Housemates in ignorance.

He'd spent much of the summer and all of the ride to Hogwarts considering his plan of action. He'd eventually opted for painfully blunt honesty in as many respects as possible. It went against the grain, but doing things the more covert Slytherin way would lose him precious time and leave far too much room for doubt and interpretation on the behalf of those he was talking to.

He'd been surprised but pleased when most of his year's Housemates had rallied around him, making their 'side' in the fight that everyone knew was brewing painfully obvious. It hurt to see Crabbe choose the wrong side, but not as badly as it otherwise might have. After all, he might just be able to haul Crabbe back where he ought to be.

In between badmouthing anything and everything to do with Voldemort, Draco had, far more quietly and subtly, let the kids of strongly pro-Voldemort parents know there was a safe way out, if they wanted it. He'd have to reinforce the message a few times because it *had* to be fairly subtle. That Draco was badmouthing Voldemort wouldn't be a problem if it got back to him. That there were safehouses available for kids and even families, if they had the balls for it, who wanted out would *definitely* cause huge problems if Voldemort were told. So the hints at a safe way out had to be a lot more subtle for the purposes of plausible deniability.

Draco was looking forward to today's House meeting, and was one of the first to arrive in the Common Room. He was interested to note that several of the older Death Eater wannabes were already present, being forced to sit apart and looking more than a little disgruntled about it.

Their attempts to thwart Severus' desire to keep them apart had been ... extremely amusing ... over the last few days. Draco could have warned them that Severus had forgotten more sneaky ploys than the lot of them combined had yet learned, but there would have been no real point. Draco got entirely too much mileage out of pointing at the idiots and going 'see? This is what I was talking about. Voldemort and people who like him are STUPID'.

It had really helped Draco's case that the Death Eater attacks had, by and large, been so easily thwarted, too. Not just thwarted, actually. According to Severus, no less than five Death Eaters had been killed, probably more. Precise numbers were hard to come by as most of those that went down in the fights were taken away when the Death Eaters left. That meant that the Alliance mostly had to guess at the severity of the damage done to their opponents. Anyway, aside from at least five Death Eaters killed, something like half of the werewolves and vampires that had attacked Birmingham were dead as well. Death Eater and Dark Creature injuries had been pretty high - the general opinion was that literally not a single one had gotten away unscathed, and many had been very badly injured.

The Alliance had not suffered so much as a single life-threatening injury. Broken bones was as bad as it had gotten, and most of the damage Alliance-side had been cuts and bruises from flying debris. Better still, the Muggle casualties at Cardiff and Leeds had been extremely light, limited to a short bout of not-permanently-damaging torture in Cardiff and not even that in Leeds. Glasgow and Birmingham hadn't been that lucky, but it was still a damn good showing.

Heck, even the fact that the Diagon Alley strike had been more than a bit of a mess had been useful to Draco. It had allowed him to point out just how prepared the Black/Potter alliance was for Voldemort compared to the Ministry. With the quiet correlation, unvoiced but clearly present to those who might be considering seeking refuge, that the Alliance would be as prepared when it came to sheltering those that wanted free of Voldemort.

Now, he was going to get to watch Salazar Slytherin utterly destroy everything his Housemates thought they knew. Part of him couldn't help but be viciously, maliciously pleased. It would be nice to not be the only one who didn't know what the heck to do with themselves. Part of him was preemptively sympathetic. This wasn't going to be easy for most of his Housemates to deal with, and he knew it. The rest of him was planning on how to use their unsettled states of mind to sway them away from Voldemort.

(_)(_)(_)

There was one last meeting taking place this day.

Minerva had been less than impressed with Dumbledore's choice of DADA teacher for this year. Unfortunately, the teaching contract had already been signed by the time she had become Headmistress, and she couldn't cancel it without problems arising. She had, initially, given Lockhart a month before he proved himself to be ... unsuitable ... as a teacher. To put it politely.

Turns out, he hadn't even needed a *day*. Minerva had been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but once she had received confirmation of how bad he was doing, all bets were off. That confirmation had come in the form of the quizzes taken by most of the Gryffindors in the last few days. Harry and Hermione had apparently had the foresight to ask their Housemates to save back their DADA assignments and quizzes.

Lockhart had given the same quiz to every Gryffindor class and Minerva was willing to bet to the rest of the classes as well. While the general concept of a quiz - especially in DADA where the teaching had been less than consistent - was a good idea, Lockhart's idea of a quiz was frankly laughable. Unlike Dumbledore, Minerva was unwilling to let this state of affairs continue. Lockhart was going to get one warning, and a chance to improve his teaching, and then he was going to be discharged and the planned swap with Severus and Nicholas enacted.

Lockhart swept in, all perfectly coiffed hair, gleaming teeth and fashionable robes. Just the sight of him set Minerva on edge. She disapproved of such airs on general principle.

"Sit, Lockhart. It seems we must discuss your teaching methods." Minerva said, then tapped the quiz in front of her. "Do tell me - what possible purpose - germaine to the learning of Defense Against the Dark Arts - doess knowing ... " She glanced at the quiz, more for effect than anything else. "Your favorite color, how many times you've won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award, the best side to photograph you from, what toothpaste you use and what you named your broomstick, to name just five inane questions on this quiz serve?"

Lockhart's smile froze.


	24. Revelations

Revelations

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 5, Hogwarts 1992

Severus settled himself into one of the chairs by the fireplace where he'd have a good view of his Snakes. He didn't want to miss a moment of their reactions.

"The first truth you must learn, children, is that no record of history is without bias." Salazar said. "Nor is it possible for any recording of history to escape error - with the correlation that the longer the time between the event, when it was written about, the greater the chance the event was written about with bias or error, regardless of whom, precisely, is writing about the event."

"In the case of my ... purported ... advocation of blood purity, matters are further complicated by the fact that my son's name was Salazar Slytherin Jr." Salazar told them

Severus supressed a grin. Already, he could tell that a few of his Snakes had figured out where this was going, getting thoughtful, angry or surprised looks on their faces depending on their own leanings.

"It may therefore surprise you to learn that I never advocated for the exclusion of non-purebloods from Hogwarts' rolls. Indeed, at the time, it would have been fairly foolish of me, as there were remarkably few residents of what became the United Kingdom who qualified as purebloods according to the modern definition. What I did advocate, however, was the total removal of all muggleborns from their muggle homes, both to protect them from harm, and to protect the magical world at large from being hunted." Salazar sighed. "That did cause a number of debates between myself and the other Founders, which is probably part of the basis for the claims made as to my beliefs."

"My son on the other hand." Salazar sighed. "His wife and children were killed in a witch hunt. He essentially went insane with grief, and started hunting muggles indiscriminately, and argued for the removal of all muggleborns from Hogwarts. When we refused, he began to attack the school, determined to kill the muggleborn children - and eventually gathered like-minded individuals to his cause. When the four of us stood against him, he started killing us and our descendants off. By the time the whole thing got written about ... there wasn't much of anyone left alive who'd been there and knew what had been going on."

"So you don't support blood purity." One of the Slytherins said.

Severus eyed them. That hadn't been a question, just a flat statement, in a tone devoid of any real emotional cues. Which, to his trained ear, fairly screamed that the student in question definitely felt something. The question being what, exactly, they were feeling. That was always harder to tell, especially when his Snakes were in a group like this. They were always more cautious with their 'tells' when they knew they were being observed by potentially hostile forces, manipulative allies that would use any information garnered against them, or, well, people in general.

"No I most certainly do not. It might interest you to discover that none of the four of us are what could be termed purebloods. Godric actually came closest - both his grandparents were magical, but one great-grandparent was not, I believe. Myself, Rowena, and Helga all had grandparents who were muggles." Salazar told them

That caused no small amount of consternation and disbelief. Severus was hard put not to laugh. If his snakes ever learned that it was Godric with the ancient bloodline (despite technically not being a pureblood thanks to his great grandfather marrying a muggle), where Salazar, the supposed blood purist was the son of muggleborns ... well. Sadly, the students would never find that out, due to Godric's ties to Harry. They did not want anyone figuring that out and word getting back to Voldemort. That would cause them even more problems than they already had.

(_)(_)(_)

Draco was extremely amused by his fellow Slytherins once the meeting was over. They almost immediately separated into little knots to talk over everything that Salazar had told them. Draco immediately inserted himself into the main group of second years.

"I can verify everything Salazar said, in that he's not being told to say that by someone. I've talked to another portrait of his, and they both said the same thing, long before school started." He told them.

"And how would you have the chance to talk to a portrait of Salazar Slytherin over the summer?" Daphne Greengrass wanted to know.

"I stayed the summer at Potter Castle." Draco admitted. It didn't matter if Voldemort and his cronies found that out. The place was nigh impregnable. "Potter has a portrait of all four founders there. No idea how he got it, but he's got it."

"You were at ... how did that come about?" Greg asked.

"Mom and Dad got me out of the house. You know why." Draco told Greg, who knew the most about Draco being 'hexed'. "And it was Potter that got me free of that damn spell that got put on me. Found a cure for it."

Well, no he hadn't, obviously, but no one was ever going to find out about that. Draco planned to leave everyone thinking he'd been cursed, not enslaved, however temporarily. He was not about to deal with the shit he'd get over having been enslaved. Not ever.

"So he's really ... " Theo started to ask. Draco knew his parents were very firmly in the pro-Voldemort ranks, but Theo wanted no part of it, so he would be invested in whether or not Harry gave a shit about the kids of Death Eaters as individuals.

"Potter doesn't give a damn who our parents are, or what they stand for. It's who we are and what *we* stand for he cares about. He was willing to hide me to keep me safe from the bastards that hexed me. Hell, he was even willing to shelter my parents when they thumbed their noses at Voldemort." Draco knew he could afford to be a bit blunter about that with this particular group - none of them were looking forward to being forced into being Voldemort stooges. The rest of the House, though, he had to be a whole hell of a lot more careful of how he spoke around them.

Theo shot a look at Draco. "Would he ... ?" 

"In a heartbeat, Theo." Draco said, keeping his voice down. "In a heartbeat. Want me to ask him to meet with you?"

"Yeah." Theo glanced carefully around the room, making sure no one overheard them.

"Make that meeting with all of us." Milicent said. "I know my folks joined the Black/Potter Alliance, so they'll be thrilled I'm on board with them, but I think we all kind of want to see this for ourselves. Potter's been hailed as the Hero of th Light for a long-ass time, and with Dumbledore as an example of what that meant ... "

Draco made a face. "Undertood."

Dumbledore had been entirely too happy to throw the 'Dark' families under the Knight Bus, Draco knew. Regardless of whether they'd actually agreed with Voldemort's stance on things or not. It had made it extremely difficult for anyone not inclined to kowtow to Voldemort to escape his clutches when there was no other alternative.

Once the general talk died down, Draco made his way to one side of the room and sat on a couch right under a portrait. A few moments later, Salazar wandered by.

"Would you be willing to let Harry know some of my housemates want to talk to him, Lord Slytherin?" Draco asked quietly.

"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Malfoy." in a similarly quiet tone, then slipped out of the portrait and disappeared.

(_)(_)(_)

Harry was playing exploding snap with Neville when Salazar appeared in the portrait behind him and cleared his throat rather theatrically. Harry jumped, and the card in his hand dropped, hitting the rest of the deck and making them explode.

Harry yelped, then whipped around and glared at Salazar, who started laughing at the two boys.

"Sorry, young Mr. Potter. I couldn't resist." Salazar claimed.

"Yeah right, tell it to someone who might actually believe you. You're worse than the twins!" Harry groused, though he was grinning. "What's up? You wouldn't even be in here if there wasn't something."

"Is that ... ?" One of the Gryffindors still in the common room asked, staring at Salazar.

"None other than Salazar Slytherin." Harry said. "Also known as: not evil, not a pureblood supremacist, and generally not an asshole, though he does have a bit of prankster in him from time to time. Either that or the twins have corrupted him."

The Gryffindor stared at the portrait with a look that was somewhere between awe and suspicion. "So why is he ... here?"

"McGonagall said they'd be visiting all the common rooms, remember?" Harry pointed out. "He's probably just taking a peek to see what's changed in here since the last time he was in here as a portrait ... whenever the heck that was."

"Back in fifteen ninety seven, I do believe, Mr. Potter. Though I might be off by a year or two." Salazar said. "I do know our portrait was removed from the castle in the early sixteen hundreds, so it can't have been too terribly much later than that, no matter what."

"WHY would someone remove the painting of the founders, is what I want to know." One of the Gryffindors said.

"I cannot say." Salazar said. "We were not informed of the reason when the portrait was removed. The Headmaster portraits might know, but they are magically forbidden from discussing anything they learn in the Headmaster's office without the Head giving express permission to do so."

"Huh." The Gryffindor said. "Weird."

Harry glanced at Salazar, who nodded. Harry undertood that some Slytherins wanted to talk to him. This was one of the methods he and Draco had worked out to pass messages along. When Salazar or one of the other Founders weren't available, Hogwarts herself would pass the message along.

"Well, since Salazar ruined my exploding snap game." Harry pouted at Salazar theatrically. "I think I'll go dig Hermione out of the library and get some lunch."

He dusted himself off, ridding himself of bits of cards ash, then got to his feet. "And maybe go for a fly, after." He said. "Want anything from our room while I'm up there, Neville?"

"Nah, but thanks, Harry." Neville said.

Harry went upstairs, and grabbed his broom. He didn't expect Salazar to follow. Especially not when he had at least one Gryffindor watching him and at least somewhat interested in interacting, even if only because they were suspicious of him. The comment about what he'd be doing and in what order had been a covert way of saying 'send the Slytherins to the Quidditch pitch in about an hour' without anyone else being the wiser.

Harry did take advantage of the hour's wait to fly. Better yet, Hedwig, alerted to what he was planning to do joined him. She dipped and dived and circled around him, cackling and crackling and generally making fun of how stiff and non maneuverable a broom was compared to wings. Harry just rolled his eyes and ignored her antics.

Eventually, Draco and what looked like the majority of his year Slytherins arrived, all with brooms in hand. They actually joined him in the air for a bit. He and Draco even played a game of chicken, daring each other to follow their maneuvers until a laughing Draco called it quits because Harry was a bit insane when it came to flying.

Harry grinned at him and landed. The rest of the Slytherins followed until they were all under the cover of the stadium seats.

"I'm guessing you guys are wanting to hear it from the source?" Harry asked, deciding to get right to the point.

"More or less." Milicent agreed.

"Ok, so. I really don't care what House you're in. I don't care who your parents are. They're not you." He shot Theo and Greg, the ones he knew whose families were neither in the Alliance nor known Neutrals, a look. "And if you don't want any part of this Voldemort insanity, I can and will help you get out. Sirius has been working on that for months, pretty much since shortly after he got out of Azkaban. Because he better than anyone knows what it's like to not agree with your family's politics and want away from it, but not really have a *way* to get away."

Harry took a breath. "You'd have to talk to him about the details ... mostly because he left the exact details negotiable - that way, you can decide just how much help and/or protection you want or need, and for how long. But really, there's not much of a limit. If you want to be relocated to the Americas? He'll do it. If you just want somewhere safe to spend summers, because your parents will kick up a massive fuss, but you don't want to walk out of the fight entirely, he can do that too."

"And you can guarantee our safety?" Theo wanted to know.

"Yes. We have a couple places under Fidelius - and a bunch of other wards to boot. Anyone trying to get in who doesn't have permission is going to be in a world of hurt even if they get past the Fidelius somehow. Which trust me, they won't. Because the Secret Keeper is so far beyond their reach it's actually kind of funny."

It really was. Sirius had had the bright idea to ask the goblins if one of their own would be willing to act as Secret keeper. Given that it would never occur to anyone that a goblin would be acting as Secret Keeper for anything, never mind the location of places that Death Eater children were hiding from their parents and Voldemort at, it was perfect. And one of the goblins had been willing to do so.

"People can be found and tortured or Legilimenced into giving up information." Theo said.

"Not this time." Harry said. "Trust me. Not this time. I can't tell you who the Secret Keeper is ... I won't even if you take us up on the offer of sanctuary, that way you can't even accidentally tell someone enough information to guess at who the Keeper is. But trust me, they're not going to be found and not going to be forced to give up the information."

Theo gave a noncommital hum. "I suppose."

"Do you really think you can, you know ... well, deal with Voldemort?" Daphne asked.

"Me? No. Not right now. I'm a kid, for goodness' sake. But Sirius and the rest of the Alliance? Heck yes. And when I'm older, I'll be able for it too. Sirius' had people teaching me all sorts of stuff, because we both know that Voldemort isn't likely to leave me alone. I'm going to need to be able to defend myself because sooner or later, he's going to manage to get me away from any adult help."

"And that doesn't scare you?" Theo asked.

Harry snorted. "I'm a Gryffindor, not insane or stupid. So yeah, it scares me to death. But I'm not going to let him kill me. Or anyone else, if I can possibly help it. At this point, that's pretty much limited to getting as many of the kids of his followers out of his reach as are willing to leave, but it's better than nothing."

That got several nods.

"You got Draco out. And even his parents." Greg said. "M'da told all about how Lucius and Narcissa just apparated away from him and he couldn't do anything about it. He's apparently still really mad about it, too."

"That's probably about half of what the attacks on the second were about." Harry admitted. "Evidently, he doesn't take even mild defeat very well. Which, honestly, if he's that easy to rattle, he's going to be pretty easy to take out, in the end. Because he's eventually going to get so wound up and pissed off that he makes really big mistakes, and all you need is one good opening, and it's all over."

"Black's already got the Wizengamot by the short and curlies." Draco said with a grin. "He got them to vote 'no confidence' on Fudge without half trying."

"Hang on and I'll get Sirius so you can talk to him." Harry said.

"You can do that?" Theo wanted to know, eyes wide.

"Yep. Communication mirrors. Sirius gave me one before I came to Hogwarts this year, so we can stay in touch. There was going to be too much going on for me not to be in the loop." Harry grinned. "And can I just say I love that he actually fills me in on stuff? Dumbledore wasn't telling me anything. And that could've ended really badly."

"No kidding. Even if it wasn't, you know, *him* after you, knowing what you're dealing with when someone wants you dead keeps them from succeeding - or at least makes it a hell of a lot harder." Theo said.

Harry dug his mirror out of his back pocket and tapped it with his wand. "Sirius Black."

A few moments later, Sirius' face appeared in the mirror. "Hey kiddo. Wasn't expecting to hear from you until tonight. What's up?"

"I have almost the entirety of the second year Slytherins under the Quidditch bleachers, and a couple of them want to talk to you about getting away from their folks."

"Right. Not a problem. Hand the mirror over, kiddo, and I'll get this settled." Sirius told hiom.

Harry grinned and handed the mirror to Theo, who walked a good bit away and around one of the support beams for the stadium, hiding from their line of sight.

"I really hope he takes Black up on the offer." Millicent said. "His father is ... " She shuddered. "Really nasty. Theo's never said, but there were rumors his dad used the Cruciatus on him."

"What? That's ... " Harry gave Millicent a wide-eyed look. "How could ... oh, what am I saying." He gave his head a shake. "He's a Death Eater. They don't tend to be very nice."

And even if Theo's father wasn't a Death Eater, Harry knew from experience that adults could be really nasty pieces of work.

"So ok, yeah. Here's hoping he takes Sirius up on it, if for no other reason than getting the heck out of a bad home. I wouldn't wish that sort of thing on anyone." Harry made a face.

Hedwig, who'd stayed quiet and out of the way until now, finally flew down from one of the support beams she'd been perched on and nuzzled Harry.

//He'll be all right, Harry-chick// She told him, trying to ease his upset on Theo's behalf. //He doesn't strike me as the sort to not take advantage of a chance to get away from abuse.//

//Yeah, but you'd think I would have run too, Hedwig, help or no, but I stayed.//

//There might have been spells preventing you from leaving, Harry.// Hedwig pointed out. //You know what Bill found.//

//Don't remind me.// Harry growled. //I still wish I'd gotten a chance to punch Dumbledore, at least once.//

Hedwig made a noise of agreement.

Right about then, Theo came back around the support beam, and handed Harry back the mirror. "Thanks, Potter." He said quietly.

Harry shot him a look, wondering if Theo had taken Sirius up on the offer, then realized that of course he had, he just didn't want to cop to it in front of everyone.

"Anyone else wanna talk to Sirius?" Harry asked.

Greg shot a look at Draco, then nodded. "Think I'd better. Don't think m'dad'd kick my ass for running, but you never know, and even if he doesn't ... "

"There's still Voldemort to worry about." Harry said with a nod, and handed the mirror over.

Greg, like Theo, withdrew so that he was out of everyone's line of sight.

Harry grinned at the remaining Slytherins. "So ... anything you guys want to ask me that you haven't already? He asked.

"Not that I can think of." Daphne said. "I mean, we pretty much know everything we need to." 

"Same here." Tracy said. "I've heard plenty enough to let me know whose side I wanna be on and that's all I really need to know. You want to tell us more, you will. Until then, I'm good."

"I know more than they do, after having been in Potter Castle most of the summer." Draco said. 

"And I know all sorts of stuff from my folks." Millicent said. "I can tell you though that my folks were surprised to be approached by Sirius to see if they'd be interested in joining his alliance. They didn't think anything like that would ever happen. Everyone assumes they're Voldemort supporters and leaves it at that."

Harry snorted. "Sirius would know better than most who was a supporter and who wasn't. That's probably whyt he approached your folks." He pointed out.

Greg came back into sight, smiling a bit, and handed the mirror to Harry. Harry grinned back at him and glanced at the mirror.

"Talk to you tonight, Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Of course, kiddo. And any other time you want to, too." Sirius told him.

Harry grinned happily. He was still getting used to the whole 'adults who give a shit' thing. It was awesome, but whenever something like this came up, he still got all warm and fuzzy feeling. He hoped that didn't stop anytime soon.

(_)(_)(_)

Hogwarts had been, slowly but surely, examining her spaces to ensure that they were in good repair and posed no threat to the children. After Dumbledore's stunt with the Stone, she wasn't willing to take it on faith that there were no further dangers lurking in her rooms and corridors.

The check had gone well thus far. She'd made due mental note of which portraits had been removed that would benefit the children by their return, but found no Dark objects or other threats in any of the classrooms or corridors. There'd been a few questionable things in the Slytherin dorm, but Severus had his eye on his charges so she wasn't overly worried, especially since whatever it was wasn't truly evil - just questionable.

All that done, however, she needed to check the Room of Requirement. Various of its permutations had been used, even back when she was aware and watching, to stash items for later retrieval. When the room was not in use, these items got put in a magical pocket.

It was this pocket Hogwarts now checked, and as she'd feared, there were more than a few dark items held within. Unfortunately, she was going to need the assistance of humans to remove them, as while she could move suits of armor and statues, that did her no good beyond the school grounds, and she wanted those things *out* and as far away as could be managed. Better yet, destroyed.

And that was just in the individual setups. The 'lost things' setup, where the majority of people had ended up stashing things or where things had been sent when they got left behind, she hadn't gotten to until today.

One good look and she immediately contacted Minerva.

"Headmistress." The Hat said.

Minerva, who'd been sitting at the Head's desk doing some paperwork, glanced up. "Yes, Hogwarts? You sound ... disturbed. Is something wrong?"

"Very much so, I'm afraid. After Dumbledore was killed, I started checking my rooms and such for Dark objects. I didn't trust that there weren't nasty surprises tucked in a classroom somewhere."

"A wise precaution. I presume you found something?" Minerva said.

"Several somethings, actually. The classrooms and corridors are clear, so there's no worry there. But the Room of Requirement is a problem. There are several dark items tucked into individual hiding spaces, and one of the bigger 'rooms' has over a dozen or so. One of which is horrifically black and evil and needs to be removed immediately. Unfortunately, I cannot remove them from the grounds on my own."

"I'll contact Bill Weasley and Alastor Moody immediately. They're the best we've got when it comes to dealing with Dark objects." Minerva said, already pulling a communication mirror out of a pocket.

"My thanks, Headmistress." Hogwarts told her.

Minerva nodded, then tapped the mirror. "Bill Weasley."

A few moments later, Bill's face appeared.

"Mr. Weasley, Hogwarts has found some rather alarming Dark Arts items hidden in a room here in the castle. Do you happen to have time to spare to assist with their removal?"

Bill nodded sharply. "Yeah, no problem." He said. "I'll start heading your way now."

"I'll open the floo for you so you can skip the intermediate steps. Hogwarts wants those items out as fast as possible." Minerva said.

"I don't much blame her. The idea of one of the kids stumbling across them ... " Bill shuddered. "Anyway, on my way."

Minerva tapped the mirror off, got up and opened the floo, then called Alastor. He'd just answered when Bill flooed in.

"Alastor, are you free at the moment?" Minerva wanted to know.

"Yeah." Alastor growled.

"Excellent. Hogwarts has found some Dark Arts objects hidden in her space. I've already asked Bill to assist, but backup seems like a good idea." Minerva told him.

"I'll be there in five." Alastor said immediately.

"The floo is open Alastor." Minerva told him.

"Then I'll be there in two." Alastor said.

Sure enough, Alastor arrived less than two minutes later.

"So where're these items at." Alastor said.

"In a room not far from here." The Hat said. "I'll have one of the suits of armor meet you there, so I can tell you how to get at everything. The room is on the seventh floor, across from a tapestry of dancing trolls. Don't be startled when you don't see a door."

"Right. Let's go, lad." Alastor said, jerking his head at Bill.

"I think I shall go with you." Minerva said. "While my skill at dealing with Dark objects is perhaps not as strong as either of yours, my abilities with Transfiguration might be called upon to contain them."

"And you want to know if you need to curse Dumbledore into a deeper level of hell." Alastor said, correctly divining at least part of Minerva's reason for going along.

"Quite so. I am most displeased with him as it stands, and if he has deliberately permitted these objects to be placed here, or placed them himself, I shall be quite put out." Minerva huffed.

The three of them headed for the room of requirement. As Hogwarts had told them, one of her many suits of armor was waiting for them.

"Unfortunately, while I am aware of where the items are hidden, I cannot just pull all of them out - each of the spaces has different 'keys' as it were, and need to be unlocked. Nor can I tell you what they are, just that they're Dark. And one of the objects goes beyond Dark into full evil and pure black arts. I want that one out first."

"Understandable, lass." Alastor said. Behind him, Minerva gave an amused sounding huff, probably at the idea of calling a millennium-old building 'lass', like she was a twenty-something being.

Hogwarts opened the door to the room of lost things, able to do so without having someone pace it out and think about it because she had full control of the room.

"I'm not sure exactly where the black arts item is at, but it's somewhere to the left, about in the middle of the room." She told them.

"Right, we'll find it lass. That sort of thing leaves a fairly easy trail to follow." Alastor told her.

Bill was already casting detection spells, and he whistled. "Wow. She wasn't kidding. Serious black arts something-or-other in here. The pattern sort of looks familiar."

"Like you've seen something like it before?" Alastor asked.

"No, more like I was told about it." Bill said, frowning at the spell results. He eventually shook his head. "Can't remember." He said with a sigh. "Let's go."

It took the two men a good half-hour to track the black arts item through the masses of things in the lost room. Minerva had been taking due note of everything she saw.

"Remind me, Hogwarts." She said at one point. "To draft some assistants and sort through everything in here once the Dark Arts items are gone. I've seen several things that might be of use, and who knows what else is hidden in these piles."

"I'll do that, Headmistress." Hogwarts promised.

They eventually found the source of the black arts signature - an innocent-seeming tiara.

"That ... looks a bit familiar." Minerva said, staring at it. "I remember ... didn't Rowena Ravenclaw have a diadem?"

"Yes she did." Alastor said, eyeballing it. "This could be it, too, but I sincerely doubt that she made a black arts item. Someone must have found it later and added a few things to it."

"Yeah, a few really, really nasty things." Bill said. "We're going to need to make sure that thing is sealed tight. And nobody touch it. I'm reading compulsion charms on it."

"Right. I'll transfigure something to shut it into, and one of you can float it in there." Minerva said, floating several broken metal items to herself before waving her wand and transfiguring them into a lead box big enough to hold the tiara.

Alastor floated the tiara into the box, which Minerva then transfigured into a seamless cube. "There. That will at the very least slow down anyone wanting to get at it who really shouldn't, and block out the spells as well."

"I'll take this home with me, see if I can figure out what it is so we can figure out how to destroy it. You come with, Bill. Best not to work with it alone."

"You got it, Alastor." Bill said, and the three of them headed out of the room "We can come back in a little bit for the rest, since Hogwarts wants them all out pronto."

Minerva nodded. "The password to get into the office is 'Gamp's law'. She told them.

The two men left, then returned about fifteen minutes later.

"Right. Tiara's stashed at my place for now. Let's get the rest of this crap out of here." Alastor growled.

It took them most of the rest of the day to find and remove the dark arts items. Mostly because the majority of them were in the room of lost things, which made pinpointing their exact location less than easy. Eventually though, they managed it and Alastor and Bill left with a bag full of sealed metal boxes, each holding a single dark arts item for them to either destroy or clean of dark spells and refurbish for more legitimate uses.

Minerva sighed in relief to know that all those nasty things were gone, though she did worry about the identity of the black arts item. If Bill had heard of it, it couldn't be all that good, given his occupation and what he'd been doing before returning to the country.


	25. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, sorry for the false alarm yesterday. NaNoWriMo is eating my brain and I mistakenly started to upload just a half-chapter, then realized it after the fact and quick bahleeted it.

Recovery

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 7, 1992 Potter Castle

It had been a long, tiring week for Sirius.

The cleanup of the mess that Voldemort - and, it had to be admitted, the defenders - had made of four cities had been a heck of a thing to clean up. The Obliviation squad was still trolling the areas, making sure they'd caught everyone. For all the good that would do them.

Sirius wasn't betting on them having found everyone who saw the fights. He'd bet good, solid money that at least one or two folks saw what was going on, especially in Birmingham, and ran like heck. By the time the Obliviators arrived, those folks would have been so far away as to be impossible to track down. 

It just became a question of whether those folks talked themselves into believing they'd imagined what they saw, or if they connected the dots the right way and came up with 'magic is real'. Either way, it would be weeks at the absolute least before they could possibly find out either way. Probably a lot longer than that, because even if they did believe it was magic, humans were by nature cautious of being thought crazy. The folks that believed it was magic would be slow to risk telling others for fear of ending up accused of being insane.

Fortunately, other than the long-term effects the attack would have on magical/mundane relations, and how that would affect Sirius' (admittedly hellaciously ambitious) ultimate plan the cleanup wasn't Sirius' problem. What was his problem was some of the survivors. Sirius had had his hands full this last week dealing with the turned/infected victims from Birmingham. 

There were four new vampires that had survived the fight in Birmingham, and nearly a dozen new weres. From Moody's count, Sirius knew that another six folks had not survived to be turned, despite the process having been started. Their would-be sires had been interrupted in the process of turning them, and in the chaos of the fighting, the not-quite-completely-dead victims had succumbed to blood loss. Nearly two dozen people - some of the Alliance folks included - had gotten scratched deeply enough by a werewolf to end up with some of the milder side-effects of lycanthropy, but hadn't been fully infected. Another three hadn't survived, either due to the severity of the infecting bite, or complications arising from the changes that took place during the infection process.

Talking to the surviving victims was top priority. He did his best to reassure them, and make sure they understood their conditions. He also did made sure they got some sort of guidance from older vampires and werewolves. That proved to be understandably difficult, as most of the victims were just a wee bit jumpy when it came to being around vampires or werewolves after having been attacked by one. Finding them someone whose presence they could tolerate proved to be challenging. 

Fortunately, the Alliance did have quite a few vampires on their rolls, so Sirius had a range of options. Not too surprisingly, a female vampire named Gertrude that reminded Sirius strongly of Molly Weasley ended up as guide to most of the vampires. Gertrude was short, appeared to not be in the least dangerous or intimidating, and had the sort of maternal air that kids and people in need of mothering flocked to. 

Gertrude was also, per several of the other vampires in the Alliance, pure hell on wheels when it came to defending anyone under her protection. The folks that had sired the new vampires would evidently seriously regret any attempt to steal her new charges away from her. Certainly, she'd been vociferous enough in her desire to kick the butts of Johan and his followers.

The few vampire victims that didn't go to Gertrude had, amusingly enough, attached themselves not to a vampire, but to Molly herself. Those had been the folks most traumatize by the whole vampire thing, and hadn't wanted to be anywhere near a vampire that wasn't a fellow victim. Molly had been more than a little disconcerted at first, but had been willing to step up and do what she could for the folks that sought her out.

On the werewolf side of things, Remus, despite being up to his eyeballs in work as the majordomo for both the Black and Potter families, had thrown himself into helping the new weres. Only two of the oldest had opted not to look to Remus for advice and assistance. Sirius fully expected for the rest of them to end up forming a pack around Remus, whether that was Remus' intent in helping them or not. Which, Sirius was pretty dang sure that the absolute last thing on Remus' mind was becoming a Pack Alpha.

Unfortunately, Sirius fully expected to lose at least one of the new vampires and the two new weres that weren't hanging out with Remus. All three of them had locked themselves into rooms as far from everyone else as they could possibly get, and had refused all attempts at reaching out to them. Some of the rest were ... well, not looking too good either. Though Sirius figured they'd hang on long enough to strike back at the assholes that had wrecked their lives. Whether or not they'd keep going after that was anyone's guess.

While all of that was happening, Sirius had gotten to do something on his wish list. To whit: Getting rid of Fudge. Given the severity of the attacks, it had been ridiculously easy to get a 'no confidence' vote and get him thrown out of the Ministry entirely. That done, the question quickly became who would be the best candidate to become the new Minister.

Sirius had been half tempted to nominate Amelia Bones. She was incorruptible, fair, and dedicated to wiping out Voldemort and his cronies. Unfortunately, she was badly needed to lead the Aurors. Sirius didn't repose anywhere near the same level of confidence in her immediate subordinate and most likely replacement as head of the Auror corps. Scrimgeour struck Sirius as far too much of an ambitious political animal to be trusted. He was a bit too invested in public opinion for Sirius' comfort. He worried that if public opinion shifted, Scrimgeour would shift right along with it, and they really didn't need that sort of person in charge of the Aurors.

Unfortunately, other potential Ministers were thin on the ground. The position required a certain level of political savvy, in order to get along with both the muggle government leaders and the other magical government leaders. At the same time, right now they needed to keep blood purists or their sympathizers the heck away from any position of governmental influence, never mind the Minister's seat. Which meant they needed someone who wouldn't fold to blackmail or bribery attempts, or just plain threats. That left them with remarkably few options of people they could trust to nominate a new potential Minister.

Voldemort had already picked his candidate - a fellow named Thicknesse. A more oily, untrustworthy individual Sirius hadn't met. He came away from meeting the man with an intense desire for a shower, and a need to count his fingers and check his wallet - and his wand. And then the rest of himself for inimical spells and potions.

At least they didn't have to deal with a Dumbledore approved and supported applicant. With Dumbledore himself dead, his alliance had fallen apart. Some of the families had stuck together, but many had fallen away from the group. The few that remained seemed to be more interested in infighting than nominating a potential applicant for Minister. Even if they did nominate someone, they'd never have the numbers or the influence to get their person in office.

Eventually Sirius settled on Thurkell as the best Alliance candidate. They were the best option aside from Amelia. The Thurkells had been a Neutral family for centuries, which made them appear at least a little less involved in the whole Voldemort mess, even if they had chosen to join the Alliance. Better yet, the current Head of House was a likeable man with enough of a flair for politics to survive the madhouse. He would also be unlikely to fold to pressure from the extremists on either side of the pureblood issue, which was all to the good. And while he might be somewhat susceptible to threats - mostly because they'd been Neutral and mostly unsupported for a long time - the current Thurkell Head was pragmatic enough to seek help in dealing with such trouble rather than caving.

Of course, once Sirius had figured out a candidate, he had had to actually, you know, ask them if they'd be interested. Thankfully, once consulted about being nominated, Thurkell had been up for it, which meant Sirius hadn't had to go through the whole exercise again. The lobbying had begun three days after the attack and two days after Fudge got voted out. 

They wanted to make sure they got as much exposure for Thurkell as possible, to let people know he was who Black and Potter preferred. It would make getting him voted in a whole heck of a lot easier. The folks who weren't in the Wizengamot but were prone to being influenced by Family politics would follow the lead of one or the other family. It was one of the benefits of having a traditionally 'Light' and 'Dark' family allied. They pulled in a lot of families from both camps that the more exclusive groups just couldn't.

Of course, actually voting in a new Minister was a month away. They needed that long to get the vote organized. In the meantime, Amelia was serving as Minister Pro Tem, despite Umbridge's rather vociferous disapproval. Sirius was seriously considering putting that woman at the top of his 'to be dealt with' list.

Umbridge had been the loudest voice for the most punitive anti-creature legislation that had gotten put into law before Sirius had gotten out of Azkaban. She'd also been very loud about her disapproval of non-purebloods. Sirius wondered more than a little if she wasn't a Death Eater. Even if she wasn't, she was seriously unpleasant and making it a lot easier for truly nasty laws to get passed. If she continued to be a problem, Sirius was not above arranging for her to be shipped to Guyana or something in order to get rid of her.

(_)(_)(_)

September 17, 1992

It took Bill and Alastor nearly two weeks of investigation, research in the Black Family library, and very careful, very cautious spell analysis on the black arts-poisoned tiara before they finally figured out what the heck had been done to it. At that point, only the fact both of them had cast iron stomachs kept them from getting very ill.

"A horcrux." Moody spat, eyeballing the tiara like he wanted to cast fiendfyre and be done with it, despite both of them being in the room with the thing. "Given I only know of one person who was both bloody hard to kill, who came back from something that ought to have killed them, and who wasn't a babe when they were almost killed, I'll not be giving odds on whose horcrux this is."

Bill was giving the tiara a similar look of loathing. "Yeah, not gonna disagree with you on that one. Crap. No wonder he didn't die. This should have been figured out the first time around." Bill's expression went thunderous. "What do you want to bet Dumbledore knew?" He asked.

Alastor got an equally sour look on his face. "Not taking that bet, lad. Though to give the man a little benefit of the doubt ... knowing Voldemort made one, and knowing what it was and where the bloody thing was hidden are two very different things. Wouldn't have occurred to even me that one'd be in the school. Too easy for some dumb blighter to stumble over it, even in the Room, and then he'dve been in trouble."

Bill sighed. "Fair point." He finally admitted. "Still. We need to tell Sirius and the others. And then get rid of this thing."

"And then look for the others." Alastor said, earning himself a horrified look from Bill. "Look at the facts, lad. Voldemort was insane. Now, there's any number of ways to get that way, but knowing he made one of these ... "

"From everything I've read of them, the more he made, the loonier he'd get." Bill grimaced. "So there's at least one more out there somewhere. Probably more than that, given how bad Voldemort got by the time he went after the Potters. And us with no clue what they are or where they are. Damn. This is not good. Not good at *all*."

Alastor nodded grimly. "We're going to have to work on containment options." He said. "If we catch and hold the ruddy bastard, it won't matter how long it takes us to find his bits and bobbles. But that's going to be a hell of a trick."

"I wonder what the odds on getting some Draught of Living Death down his throat are." Bill asked, then grinned when Alastor gave him a gobsmacked look. "What, it'd be the easiest option to contain the bastard until we can kill him."

"Sadly, I don't think it's a viable idea. Too big a chance he'll notice the stuff in his cup, or the elf that makes the switch getting caught, and no wizard'd be able to get close enough to Switch it into his stomach." Alastor said with a sigh. "Still, it would make things a good sight easier, you're right about that, and if we can actually get our hands on him, it'll be the first thing done to the bastard. No other way to make sure he doesn't escape."

Alastor slapped the table as he pulled his mind away from that to something they could deal with right here and now. "So. We box this thing back up, go tell Black the bad news, then see if he's got someplace we can safely use Fiendfyre and get rid of the damn thing."

"Or failing that, see if the Hogwarts basilisk will help us." Bill pointed out. "Basilisk venom will kill literally anything. And if *that* isn't an option, we go to the goblins. I know for a fact they have ways to deal with these damn things. They encountered them way too often in the past on tomb digs for anyone's comfort."

"Or we just cut to the chase and go to the goblins first." Alastor said. "I like that idea better than trying to find somewhere safe to use Fiendfyre, and while that basilisk at Hogwarts may be willing to give us some venom, we don't know that it'll kill the horcrux for sure."

Bill nodded. "It's a plan. I'll contact the bank from the Castle, once Sirius is in the know." He waved his wand and floated the tiara back into the box they'd gotten to replace McGonagall's temporary one, and sealed it in.

"Age before beauty, Alastor."

"Smartass." Alastor growled, but got to his feet and headed for the floo. Less than two minutes later, Alastor had arranged to meet Sirius. They were not going to meet the castle. Alastor wasn't willing to bring something so foul into Potter Castle - so they'd arranged to meet at Grimmauld Place.

He backed out of the fireplace, then threw more powder in. He waved Bill, who was carrying the boxed tiara, through first, then stomped into the fireplace a moment later.

(_)(_)(_)

Sirius glared at the box once Alastor and Bill had finished filling him in. "Well, shit." He growled. "This ... complicates things. Hugely."

"Tell me something I didn't already know, lad." Alastor said in a grumpy but sympathetic tone.

"We need to find out how many of them there are. And where they are." Sirius said with a sigh. "And how the hell we're going to do that when we don't even know who the hell he is and the odds on getting someone from his side who knows either who he is, or about the horcruxes under Veritaserum are next to none ... "

"Yeah, it's a problem." Bill said. "I planned to talk to the goblins about helping us destroy this. Their ways are safer than anything Alastor and I could come up with that would work for sure."

Sirius grimaced. "Given that I can only think of Fiendfyre being certain of destroying the thing, you'd be right."

"There's the possibility of basilisk venom working too, but we're not sure. At least, not sure enough to risk it." Bill said.

At that point the three men got a bit of a surprise, because Kreacher popped into the room. He eyeballed the metal box on the table with real venom, then shot Sirius a wary look.

"Nasty traitor master is being able to destroy bad thing? Is willing to?" Kreacher asked

Sirius eyed Kreacher warily. As much as he didn't like the ancient, crazed elf and wanted to chase him off because his interest in the box - and the horcrux - creeped him out, he hesitated. Because Kreacher was asking about it being destroyed. And while that might mean Kreacher trying to make off with the thing, Sirius wasn't sure about that. He could have grabbed it and run without making his presence known. No, Sirius had a feeling there was something else going on here.

"Yeah, I can. And yes I am." Sirius said.

Kreacher stared at him oddly for a moment, before popping away. He returned a few moments later with a locket on a chain clutched in his fist.

"Good Master Regulus tells Kreacher to destroy it. But Kreacher is a bad elf and can't. He tries and tries and tries but he fails." Kreacher looked to be on the edge of tears over that failure.

To say Sirius was stunned at this discovery was to vastly understate the case. He'd assumed that Regulus had died loyal to Voldemort. With no small amount of effort, he pushed his personal feeling aside to deal with later and focused on the issue at hand, namely that Kreacher was dangling another of Voldemort's horcruxes from his fist.

Sirius hurriedly conjured a metal box and floated the locket into it. "It'll be destroyed before the day is out, Kreacher." He said. "I promise you that." 

Then something occurred to Sirius. He peered at Kreacher, then glanced around the house before looking at Bill and Alastor.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but ... these things poison everything around them eventually, right?" Sirius said.

"Unless they're sealed into a thick metal container or otherwise shielded, yes." Bill said. From his expression, he was getting where Sirius was going with that question.

Alastor shot a look around the still largely wrecked and very depressing-to-be-in Grimmauld Place. "It'd answer for a lot of the damage done here, and the taint we've all sensed that we dismissed as a Black Family legacy. Now we know, it can be cleansed. It'll take some doing, if that thing's been here since your brother died, but it can be done. He died clear back in, what, '78?"

"Early '79." Sirius corrected, his expression somewhere between grief and awe. "Kreacher, you're coming with us to the goblins. They might be able to do something to help you. You've been exposed to this ... thing ... far more than is good for any being."

Kreacher had always been less than pleasant to Sirius, but there was a big difference between unpleasant and crazy, and Kreacher had definitely edged into the latter. Sirius had put it down to having been alone for most of a decade, but with the horcrux brought to light - not to mention Kreacher failing to carry out his Master's order, well. Those facts put Kreacher's condition in an entirely new light - a far more fixable light than 'went insane from being alone' had been.

"Right. Let's get this over and done with." Alastor said, and pushed to his feet.

"Wait. Kreacher, could a house-elf find more of these, if there are more to be found?" Sirius wanted to know as another idea struck him.

"If there is more, and they is close, an elf could." Kreacher confirmed.

"How close is close?" Sirius asked.

Kreacher clearly had to think about that one. "Is not elf's Master, or of master, so ... maybe two hundred kilometers? If was Master or of Master's magic, an elf could find nasty bad things anywhere."

"Two hundred clicks is better than nothing." Sirius said. "I'm not going to ask you to do it ... you've had to deal with this enough. But if we let another elf get a peek at it, that won't be enough to screw them up, and they can stay a comfortable distance from any others that are lying around."

At which point they all jumped out of their skins, because Dobby popped in.

"Dobby do it." He offered. "I is watching evil bad man anyway, so I is most familiar with him. Make it easier to find bad things at bigger distance."

Sirius eyed the oddball elf. "You sure?" He wanted to know. Dobby'd helped them a lot since Malfoy had set him free, and he'd hate to put the clever little blighter at risk.

Dobby nodded firmly. "I is sure."

"Ok then. Have fun with it, and let us know if you need help getting to them." Sirius told him

Dobby nodded, and popped out.

Bill left at that point for the bank, to talk to the goblins and forewarn them of what was coming. He returned about a half hour later.

"They're opening a fireplace to the floo network. It's in the Director's office, and the team that will be charged with the destruction of the thing will be there when we floo in. That way, as few people as possible are exposed to the thing."

"Smart." Alastor said.

"They also agreed to cleanse this place, for a fee, of course. Kreacher, they were willing to treat for free. They told me to warn you it'd take at least two days and probably longer than that, given how long he's been exposed."

Sirius nodded. "That's fine. He wouldn't have anything to do until this place is cleansed anyway, as the Potter elves have had charge of the lot of us."

They flooed into the bank - a privilege offered to very, very few. Goblins, being security conscious, weren't generally willing to just let folks be able to floo or apparate into the bank. 

 

They came out into the office of the Director of the Bank. This office, unlike most goblin offices, which made a point of not wasting gold or precious gems in an attempt to awe visitors, positively dripped with expensive fabrics, gold, and gems. To Sirius' (and Alastor's, but not Bill's) surprise, the Director himself was nowhere in sight, but there was a team of six goblins waiting for them. They took the two metal boxes and left not by the main door into the office, but by a back one that probably led deep into the goblin only parts of the bank.

A minute or so later, that door opened again, this time to admit four female goblins. Sirius froze in shock. Female goblins were almost never seen by non-goblins. They were as short as their male counterparts, but much more light-boned and delicate - almost elfin in appearance. Well, elfin as Muggles depicted elves, rather than the magical house-elf version. Because of their relative delicacy physically, they were heavily protected by their male counterparts and kept hidden from outsiders.

The eldest of the four, sporting a long white braid, approached Kreacher first, and tsked.

"You've had a hard time of it. Come, elf. We'll see you set to rights."

"G'wan, Kreacher. Let them do whatever they need to do to heal you, ok?" Sirius said. He was a little leery of addressing the goblin women directly. He had no idea what the protocol for that was. This method however not only let him give Kreacher a probably necessary order, but filled the goblin women in on Kreacher's name without speaking directly to them and potentially getting into a lot of trouble.

Kreacher nodded, and followed the women out.

"And that is probably our cue to get the heck out of here." Sirius said, aware goblins seriously disliked wasting time they could be using to earn gold. 

He did stop long enough to put a small gift on the Director's desk. It was a goblin-made bracelet he'd found in one of the rooms at Potter Castle shortly after they'd all moved in. The bracelet was actually a Black family item despite having been in the Castle. Sirius had worn it on a visit to Potter Castle, taken it off, and then forgotten it there back when he'd been a teenager. 

Sirius couldn't exactly give back all the goblin made items that the Blacks had. The vast majority of those items had been impregnated with Dark magic of one description or another over the years. Giving the goblins back something tainted seemed in poor taste to Sirius. The bracelet was one piece that was clear of both Dark arts spells and the taint that being in the same building as that horcrux would have left everything in Grimmauld place with. Thus it made for a suitable 'thank you', and Sirius had made sure to grab it before he'd left the Castle for Grimmauld Place.

(_)(_)(_)

September 17, 1992 Buckingham Palace

Queen Elizabeth was both exceedingly displeased and exceedingly pleased at the same time. It was a familiar, if disconcerting, sensation. The only thing that made the situation one of any note now was the fact that Her ire and pleasure were focused on the magical world, rather than Her mundane subjects or other government leaders.

Her displeasure was easily enough explained. The attacks on Her subjects, the resultant loss of quite a number of lives and the ... changing, for lack of a better way to put it ... of still others was never something She would approve of. That She would be forced to put yet more of Her subjects in the line of fire before this was over was equally displeasing.

At the same time, Lord Black was handling the situation far better than many would have. He'd lost no time in hitting the Ministry with everything he had. The reports She was getting from that quarter as regarded Lord Black's progress in correcting the situation in the magical realm were far better than She had expected so early in the process. He had a goodly measure of the sort of political acumen and charisma necessary to succeed in such a venue. 

She couldn't wait until things stabilized enough in the magical world for Lord Black to take his place in the House of Lords. He was bound to stir things up. Things would only get more interesting when young Lord Potter came of age and was able to join the House of Lords. She just hoped She'd live long enough to see it - which, given She was a witch, was entirely possible unless disaster struck.

Her defense forces, having now engaged the enemy for the first time, were deep in plans to revamp their responses to such events. They'd done quite well for a first engagement, but the stratagems devised to deal with magical dissidents could now be altered to produce a more favorable outcome. Particularly if another event the magnitude of what had occurred in Birmingham happened. While Her forces had done their best, that particular engagement had gone poorly.

For Her own part, Elizabeth had stepped up efforts to ensure that all peoples in Her Realm would be treated equally. Oh, they already had a number of anti-discrimination measures in place, but the language used in those measures was not as all inclusive as would eventually be necessary to include those capable of magic, and afflicted by magical conditions. 

Certainly, including those folks by name was exceedingly unwise at this point. That said, if the wording was changed just right, they would be included under existing measures when the magical world finally did rejoin the mundane world despite not being specifically named. Even if it took another century or two before the magical world fully reintegrated. 

That was the beauty of having a hereditary monarchy. Elizabeth could fill in Her successors, and get them on board with the general plan before She either abdicated in favor of Her successor or died. If Her suspicions about one of her grandsons proved true, her family would have even more cause to make sure the integration happened as painlessly as possible. And if She was right about Her grandson, He might still be King when the magical world reintegrated.

Rifkind had had his hands full with all the measures necessary to deal with the situation in the magical realm. He'd been forced to hire in a goodly number of extra assistants to deal with all the paperwork and coordinating required, on top of continuing to gather and train more folks to handle magical attacks. He'd made the point, with a little help from Lord Black, to seek out those Squibs as could be identified and found to fill the secretarial positions. They would have far more of the information necessary to deal with the magical world than mundane folks would. It would also engender a bit of good will in an otherwise badly treated minority group, which was all to the good.

Several of those squibs had undertaken the task of putting together a sort of primer during their free time. A book of 'need to know' information so that everyone knew at least the basics of what they were dealing with. That book, while not yet finished, would be within the month and would help immensely. Elizabeth planned to read it Herself, as while She'd been briefed by Lord Black, there could well be things he hadn't mentioned. Not out of malice, but simply because they were so endemic in the wizarding world that it didn't occur to him that She wouldn't already know.

Beyond that, the PR team that had been put together to both soothe civilian sensibilities about the magical attacks and divert attention to other matters wherever they could had their hands full as well. While the attacks at Leeds and Cardiff had been fairly easy to distract folks from, Glasgow and especially Birmingham had proved far trickier. Blaming the attacks on a version of the truth - that is, terrorists, but not 'magical' terrorists - had helped, but Elizabeth was leery. 

Though She did not know it, She shared Lord Black's concerns over civilians having been missed. She also shared his concerns of the magical world being revealed far too early and in a far too negative light. There was little She could do about it until it happened, but She still worried.

Still, things were fairly balanced at the moment. There were bad things, but there were good things that helped to balance them out. Elizabeth was all too happy to take the situation as it was and enjoy it. She had little doubt that before too long, things would get a whole lot worse. That was generally the way of things - they had to get worse before they got better.


	26. Lessons

Lessons

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

October 1 - 4, 1992 Hogwarts

Harry had been kind of disappointed when Lockhart managed, by some miracle, to avoid being dismissed. He had no idea what Lockhart had said to Minerva, but whatever it was, it'd worked, at least somewhat. Harry could tell Minerva was still keeping a very sharp eye on Lockhart, but she hadn't tossed him out.

Amusingly enough, with the threat of a dismissal (and the attendant displeasure of potential fans, Harry was sure) hanging over his head, Lockhart made for a tolerable teacher. Oh, he was nowhere near as good as he really needed to be, given the situation they were in, nor was he as good as his books made him out to be, but it was apparent that Lockhart had learned a thing or two despite himself.

Or well, he'd seemed to.

Until today.

Lockhart had been telling them of his 'adventures' and how he'd defeated the various beasts, beings, and Dark wizards. It had all sounded plausible enough to Harry until today's 'lesson'. On werewolves. Whereupon Lockhart made a big mistake.

Harry had no clue whatever what a 'Homorphus' charm was, or what, if any, effect it'd have on a werewolf. He did, however, know that holding a lycanthrope down one handed - even when said lycanthrope was in human form - when they didn't want to be held down was literally impossible. He'd seen Remus and Sirius wrestling often enough to figure that one out. Maybe Hagrid could manage such a thing - he was certainly big and strong enough to possibly pull it off - but a skinny git like Lockhart? Not a chance.

And that was when the lycanthrope was human. When they were transformed? Harry'd never been near one, of course, but he was willing to bet that not even Hagrid could hold down a transformed were one-handed and not get very badly hurt at best. One hand might manage to keep the teeth at bay - maybe - but not the claws. A normal human would be torn to shreds in three seconds flat.

Neville and Hermione, having spent time around Remus themselves, were both giving Lockhart the stink-eye. Hermione in particular looked thoroughly outraged. Harry was all for doing something right then and there until an idea crossed his mind. He had to cover his mouth with a hand to hide the wicked grin.

//You are evil. I like you.// Hedwig said from her perch on his chair as she perceived his plan. //Yes, this ... has much promise.//

//And you know Remus'd go for it.// Harry fairly cackled mentally, thoroughly amused by Hedwig's approval and the plan itself. Discreetly as he could, he caught Neville and Hermione's gazes and shook his head slightly. Hermione gave him a mutinous look, but in the end, they both subsided.

Once class was over, Harry pulled them aside.

"Harry, why didn't you let us say something?" Hermione asked.

"Because it would be our word versus his, and he's an adult and could convince everyone we were full of it. Then I got a really good idea on how to prove *he's* full of it in a way nobody can question."

Hermione, not being stupid, was pretty quick to figure out what had occurred to Harry. "Remus." She said, in a tone of dawning awe. "Oh, Harry - that's brilliant! I mean, pretty much everyone already knows he's a werewolf ... "

"So getting Lockhart to reenact part of the whole adventure with a real-life werewolf ... and him being unable to pull it off ... would expose him as a liar in a way that couldn't be refuted." Harry said with a grin. "I'll call him after class tonight, see if we can get it set up for, say, Monday."

Once the day was over, Harry, Hermione, and Neville headed for Minerva's office.

"He's done it again, Headmistress." Harry said with a sigh as he walked in. "But less provable this time unless we pull something just a bit underhanded."

Minerva eyed Harry. "What did he do?"

"Aside from claim he was strong enough to hold a transformed werewolf off one-handed?" Harry asked.

Minerva blinked. "He what? That's absurd."

"Yeah. And it's making me wonder just how much of the other stuff he's been teaching us is bull. Unfortunately, he could find a way to claim he'd actually done it if we tried to call him on this. Unless we prove in front of a lot of folks that he was full of it."

Minerva being like Hermione, that is, not stupid, figured out Harry's plan pretty quickly. "Remus, and a demonstration of some sort?"

Harry nodded.

"Have you spoken to Remus about this yet?" She asked.

"Nope. Figured I'd leave it until after we talked to you, because there wouldn't be much point in talking to him if you weren't up for a little fun." Harry said.

Minerva got a wicked look in her eyes. "Oh, I'm quite up for it, young man. In fact, I think it would be salutory for Lockhart to demonstrate his methods of dealing with werewolves and vampires in an assembly before the whole school. I'm sure one of the Alliance vampires could be convinced to take part, and Remus has always had a streak of ... " She petered off, less because she couldn't think of the right thing to say and more because she was trying very hard not to look amused or laugh.

"Right. So ... " Harry pulled the communication mirror out of his pocket. "Remus Lupin." He said, and tapped it with his wand.

It took a minute for Remus to reply. "Sorry about that, cub. Caught me in the middle of something. What's up?"

"Headmistress McGonagall wanted to talk to you about something." Harry said. It earned him a funny look from Remus.

"What're you up to, kiddo?"

"Me? Nothing. Nothing at all." Harry said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Remus laughed at him. "Try that on someone who didn't grow up with your dad, kiddo, and thus doesn't recognize the Potter 'up to something' expression when they see it."

Harry resorted to sticking his tongue out at Remus, and then handing the mirror over.

Minerva took it, her lips twitching in amusement. "Remus. In light of the recent attack, I was wondering if yourself and a vampire volunteer could come to Hogwarts this weekend for a demonstration with Professor Lockhart?"

While Harry couldn't actually see Remus' face, he could well imagine the expression he was sporting. His voice was rich with suspicion. "I suppose we could. Would Saturday after lunch work?"

"That would be perfect, Remus. Thank you." Minerva said, then handed the mirror back to Harry.

"See you Saturday, Remus!" Harry said, then quickly tapped the mirror off before he started laughing at Remus' blatantly suspicious and more than slightly confused expression. Then he glanced up at Minerva. "You will fill him in completely when they get here, right?"

"Yes." Minerva promised. "Which means you need to tell me everything Lockhart's been telling you. And just to be fair, I shan't forewarn Lockhart of the demonstration until Remus and the vampire volunteer arrive, since they won't know more than to show up until then."

That decree had all three kids giggling. When she calmed down, Hermione stepped forward with a thick roll. "Here. It's a copy of my class notes since you talked to him about the test."

Minerva took the roll with a nod. "Thank you, Hermione." 

She unrolled it and started scanning through it. She didn't get more than a couple lines, Harry didn't think, before she let out a displeased noise.

"I am hardly the greatest expert on the Dark Arts, but even I know this is hogwash." She said. "I've never heard of this spell. Now, I will grant that he might know spells I do not, since there are more spells out there than any one person can possibly learn in a lifetime, but this is ... " Minerva waved a hand at the scroll. "It looks like Latin, sounds like it, but it's so much gibberish."

The rest of the scroll got similar sorts of commentary, and Minerva looked increasingly displeased. "Yes, this needs to be dealt with definitively. I could dismiss him now, with this evidence, but many people consider him to be a definitive authority on the subject and would object strenuously to his dismissal. If he is, however, proven to be a fraud, their objections will greatly diminish."

The next two days were nearly torture for the kids. They snickered all through their lessons on Friday, and by Saturday, were rather antsy. They were the first students to arrive at the Great Hall for lunch. The staff arrived a few minutes after they did, Lockhart included.

About fifteen minutes later, the Hall was crammed. Not everyone was present, but enough were that it seemed no different from a feast. Then Remus, Sirius, and a thin, pale fellow Harry assumed to be the volunteer vampire came through the main door. Harry grinned hugely and waved.

Sirius veered off to greet him, giving Harry a hug. "Hey pup. Didn't think I'd let Remus come say hello without stopping by myself, did you?"

It hadn't even really crossed Harry's mind, to be honest. He was still, more than a year on, getting used to the whole 'adults who care' thing. He'd probably never get used to it completely, either. Still, it made situations like this that bit more fun, because it made Sirius showing up a bit of a surprise.

"Nah. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist a prank." Harry said instead.

"And what a prank it will be." Sirius said, sounding amused.

At that point, Minerva interrupted them.

"While I am delighted to see an involved parent or guardian visiting, Lord Black, and I know the identity of one of your visitors, I would appreciate an introduction to the other."

Sirius gave Harry a grin, then straightened up. "Well, for everyone here, since not everyone does know, this is Remus Lupin, the majordomo to House Black and House Potter." He waved at Remus, who bowed a bit in acknowledgement of the introduction. "And this other fellow is Sanguini."

Harry shot a look at the front table. Lockhart was looking a bit antsy, eyeballing Remus and Sanguini warily. While it could just be him worried about so-called Dark Creatures in a school, Harry doubted it.

Minerva nodded. "Greetings to you both, and welcome to Hogwarts. I believe this is the first time you have been in our illustrious school, Sanguini?"

"Yes." The vampire said quietly. "I was schooled elsewhere."

Minerva nodded. "If you would like, I would be pleased to arrange for a tour."

"That would be most welcome, Headmistress." Sanguini said.

"Now, I invited Lord Black and his companions to Hogwarts for a reason. It occurred to me, in the aftermath of the attack in Brighton that while the elder members of the student body have theoretical experience in dealing with antagonistic Dark Creatures, a demonstration under safe conditions might be to the wise. I am quite sure that Professor Lockhart will be more than happy to demonstrate his methods and others later today, so we shall be having an assembly for the purposes of demonstration an hour after lunch is concluded." Minerva's tone left no room for debate or demur.

Harry had to put his head down on the table to muffle and hide his laughter. Lockhart looked *horrified*. And terrified. Completely and utterly. This was going to be fantastic.

"I don't know about you guys, but there isn't a force in existence that's gonna get me to move before the demonstration takes place." He said.

"Not a chance, Harry. Not a chance." The twins said in stereo. Most of the other Gryffindors were also torn between amusement and interest, depending on whether or not they believed Lockhart's press.

They watched as Minerva dispatched several house elves to collect those students who hadn't come down for lunch. Sadly, their desire to stay exactly where they were was somewhat thwarted when Filius and Minerva worked in tandem to move the tables, clearing an area down the middle of the Hall for the demonstration, and began to put up wards. Farce this might be, but they weren't willing to risk deflected spells hitting the students.

Severus seemed to be on Lockhart duty, sticking close to the man and not letting him slide out of the Hall for any reason.

The missing students started trickling in in the middle of the adjustments being made to the room, and found seats at their House tables. By the time everyone was present and accounted for and the room ready, Lockhart was all but vibrating. Harry couldn't hear him, of course, but he'd seen Lockhart's mouth moving almost nonstop. Harry wondered if it was empty bragging or attempts to weasel out of the demonstration. Either way, he got precisely nowhere with Severus.

Eventually, Minerva stepped into the middle of the cleared area. "May I have everyone's attention please? As I mentioned in the earlier announcement, in light of the Brighton attack, I felt it wise to arrange for a practical demonstration in the methods of deterring those beings known to be siding with Voldemort, which includes some - *some but not all* ... " She stressed that heavily. "Vampires and werewolves. The majordomo for House Black and House Potter, Remus Lupin, is a known werewolf who is very involved in the fight against Voldemort. Sanguini is a vampire from the continent who has relocated here to assist in the fight against Voldemort. No one here is in any true danger from either of them." Minerva pinned a flat, more than slightly pissed off look in the direction of a few folks who'd reacted negatively to confirmation of Remus' lycanthropy and Sanguini's status as a vampire.

"Now, Professor Lockhart, Remus, Sanguini, if you please, the floor is yours." Minerva said, then headed back to the teacher's table and her seat.

Lockhart made his way to the emptied out area, and started to blather nonsense. After about two minutes of that, Harry rolled his eyes and called out.

"Show us how you beat the werewolf - you know, the one in Wanderings with Werewolves!" He called out.

Several others backed him up - whether because they wanted to see Lockhart fail or actually believed that nonsense worked really didn't matter to Harry. All that mattered was that quite a few folks were egging him on to show them how it was done. In the end, Lockhart didn't have much of a choice. Especially when Minerva added her voice to the din.

"Come, Professor. This is what you were brought in to teach, after all." She said.

Lockhart finally caved and waved for Remus to join him. The next ten minutes were nothing short of glorious if you thought Lockhart was full of it. For his fans, it was ten minutes of heartbreak and horror. First, he gave the spiel of how the whole thing started, and how he'd been called in to help. Then he told about how he'd had to track the werewolf down before he finally, with visible reluctance, got to the good part. The part where the werewolf attacked.

Things went predictably, laughably wrong for Lockhart at that point. Because he didn't have a prayer of pulling off what he claimed he could even with Remus being human and only play-acting. The speed with which Remus was able to knock Lockhart off his feet and pin him down was almost startling. Even to Harry, who'd seen Remus move like that during their dueling practice, and seen him pin Sirius now and again when the two of them were goofing around.

Remus looked down at Lockhart, then got to his feet and dusted his hands off before glancing around the room.

"And this is where everyone learns two lessons. Lesson the first being - don't take everything you read as gospel. People lie, or are misinformed as to the truth of a situation. Check multiple sources no matter what it is you're looking into, and even then, take what you find with a grain of salt." Remus said.

"The second lesson is this: There are only three ways to deal with a transformed werewolf that is on the attack. One: Climb a tree to get out of reach, because transformed werewolves can't climb trees. Two, get to a building with solid, sturdy doors and walls and small, easily blockaded windows. Three: if neither of the first two options are available or you find yourself in the position of trying to defend those who cannot, whether it's younger kids or Muggles, anything silver will hurt the werewolf, and drive most off, as even like that we've enough sense left to respond to mortal danger. Small cuts will hurt like the very devil, and be very slow to heal - and the healing process cannot be sped up by any potion or spell. Anything worse than that has a strong possibility of being lethal." 

And while Remus wouldn't tell them that, there were some old DADA spells that introduced silver dust directly into a werewolf's bloodstream, and was obviously lethal as all heck. They all, however, either rode the edge of Dark Arts themselves, or fell right into it, so they weren't appropriate for kids to be learning. Heck, even if they weren't nearly Dark Arts, Harry knew Remus wouldn't want to teach them to kids, because teaching them to defend themselves was one thing, and teaching them to kill in response to a threat was something else entirely. A fine line in some cases perhaps, but definitely there.

"Gilderoy." Minerva said.

Harry blinked, then fought down a grin. Obviously, if Minerva had dropped the 'Professor', Lockhart was in the shit now.

"I do believe I warned you once about what you were teaching. And the consequences if you did not shape up. I cannot and will not tolerate a teacher that does not actually teach my students. You have an hour to pack your things and be off the grounds." Minerva continued.

Lockhart looked thoroughly humiliated, but clearly wasn't up to doing or saying much of anything about it, because he climbed to his feet and all but fled the room. Once he was gone, the student body more or less exploded. Everyone was turning to everyone else and talking about what they'd seen. Harry was pleased to see more and more of the girls looking like they wanted to hex someone, and shooting that look in the direction Lockhart had gone. The girls had been more susceptible to Lockhart's blarney for some reason that Harry hadn't been able to figure out. Not all of them certainly, and he'd managed to draw in some of the boys, but he got more girls than boys by a wide margin.

Minerva tapped the glass in front of her to get everyone's attention. "Now that this matter has been dealt with, it becomes necessary to arrange for a new DADA teacher. Fortunately, we were prepared for that eventuality. At this time, Mr. Flamel will take over Potions classes, while Professor Snape takes over the DADA classes. Class times will not need to be changed, so there will be no adjustments to anyone's schedules. Please enjoy the rest of your weekend."

That got more talk going. Harry sat back a bit and grinned at Hemione and Neville. "Well, that takes care of that. Lockhart's gone and DADA will be worth attending for the first time."

"Agreed." Hermione said. "I just ... I cannot for the life of me figure out what Dumbledore was up to, hiring that man. He was so obviously incompetent."

Harry sighed. "That was probably why he got hired, Hermione. Dumbledore was not up to good things."

She sighed. "True."

(_)(_)(_)

The weekend was far from over for the New Marauders. Their various trainers had been working with them on a lot of different things, and while they got some time on the weekends to just kick back and relax, they didn't get to laze about the entire time.

Sunday afternoon found them in another extracurricular lesson. Harry and Neville, as had become the norm, spent about a half hour working on control, accuracy, and power conservation in various ways. Remus was working with them today, though that changed from one of these workouts to the next, with various people stepping in. 

The twins were off to one side with Severus, working on who knew what. Harry was almost afraid to ask, because the three of them all had rather disconcerting expressions on their faces. They also had about ten miles of parchment on the table they were sitting at, as well as quills, bottles of ink and at least five books that Harry could see for sure.

Hermione was deep in conference with Filius, apparently learning yet more esoteric spells, if the motions she was making were any indication. While they were all learning spells outside of what was taught in class, Hermione had rather predictably taken it a couple additional steps when their teachers had begun teaching Harry and Neville spells that required more power than kids their age normally had. She'd decided that if she couldn't keep up sheer power-wise, she'd compensate with what was becoming a truly dizzying number of spells within her ability to cast. Of course, given her predilection towards acquiring knowledge, Harry was willing to be she'dve done the same even if she had been able to keep up.

Harry and Neville finished their first round of training and took a break from casting. Severus switched from working with the twins to working with Harry and Neville on Occlumency, while Remus switched to working with the twins while they tried to mediate for their animagus forms. While Remus couldn't become an animagus, he was rather familiar with the process thanks to Sirius and James.

The Occlumency was slow going, especially for Harry. He was too inclined to activeness and action to find meditation or calming his mind easy. That said, he was making progress with it, if slowly. Neville, quieter by nature, was having more luck, but while his confidence was increasing by the day, he was still somewhat intimidated by Severus which made things a bit tricky for Neville when it came to learning from Severus.

After about a half hour of working on Occlumency, which not coincidentally gave the two of them a chance to catch their breaths and rest, Harry and Neville started working on casting again. This time, they worked on mastering various spells rather than accuracy and control. For this, they switched to Filius, and Hermione joined them. Severus moved back to the twins, and the three of them pulled out a bunch of potions-related stuff. 

Remus conjured up some parchment, quills, and ink and sat down at one of the tables to do ... well, Harry didn't know what. Harry knew from experience that Remus (or whoever the third person doing the extra training was) would stay once the 'master new spells' part of the day started in case they were needed for some reason.

Filius had been working with all three of them on the Patronus charm. Harry was pretty sure he was doing it for more reason than it being the only way to fend off Dementors and an interception-proof means of communication. After all, the charm required you to call up a happy memory in order to use it, and was thus an exercise in deliberate, specific memory retrieval - something that might either be a part of Occlumency or otherwise benefit Harry and Neville's attempts to practice Occlumency. And their instructors *had* to be collaborating on what to teach and when.

There was also the fact that he and Neville, more than any of the others that attended any of these extra curricular lessons, had a dearth of 'happy memories' to choose from, making the spell that much more difficult to master. Of course, they'd been acquiring more happy memories to work with over the last year, so Harry hoped it would eventually get easier. What surprised Harry was that Hermione was being included in the Patronus lesson attempts. Filius had indicated that the spell required more power than a kid their age normally had. 

But Harry supposed her inclusion was as sort of test of just what was really possible for someone to pull off with magic if they didn't have any preconceptions of what was possible and what wasn't, just like the animagi thing. After all, they'd been able to teach all the New Marauders to do spells nonverbally. That was something that wasn't normally taught until sixth year. 

Though it had to be said that even the twins, who were older and had more magic available than Hermione did because of it, could only cast the First-year level spells for nonverbally thus far. That, Harry had decided, probably had more to do with everyone's mastery of those spells. By now, all of the New Marauders could do those spells in their sleep. That had to make doing them nonverbally a lot easier.

Harry and Neville both spent a good few minutes trawling for possible memories to use with the patronus. They alternated attempts, concentrating on the chosen memory and attempting the charm. To everyone's shock, on the fourth attempt, Neville managed a thin wisp of white. It wasn't much, but it was more than either of them had managed up to that point.

"Way to go, Neville!" Harry said with a laugh.

"Very well done indeed." Filius said. "Now it remains to be seen if the memory you have chosen just isn't quite enough, or if you merely need practice with casting the charm now that you've found something that will work."

Neville sort of stared at his wand for a second or two. "I honestly didn't think I'd get it." He admitted. 

Then he squared his shoulders and tried again, his voice much more confident this time. Sure enough, he got a wisp again. This time, even to Harry's uneducated eye, it looked bigger, more substantial. Which really wasn't hard to manage given that the first attempt had looked more like the wisp of smoke off a snuffed candle wick than anything else.

"Oh, well done, Neville!" Filius cheered. "I do believe this memory will work for you, then. It will just be a matter of practicing until you can manage at least the shield version at need. The fully corporeal version may take a bit longer due to the power requirements, even for you two boys."

Neville grinned widely. Harry was delighted for him. This marked the first time that Neville had gotten a spell down before anyone else, which would help Neville's still-growing sense of self-confidence a lot. Harry - heck, they all - knew Neville was a capable wizard, but Neville still had days where he wondered.

Harry had a feeling Augusta would be kicking herself for that for a long time to come. When she wasn't cursing Dumbledore to the deepest levels of hell for convincing her to treat Neville that way.

They kept on working, and by the end of the training time, Neville was managing a respectable almost-shield - it was roughly the right size and shape, he just couldn't maintain it for more than a couple seconds at a time, which prevented it from forming fully, even in the simpler shield form.

Harry himself had had no more luck than usual with the Patronus spell. He knew he'd get it eventually, so he wasn't overly worried about it, even if his lack of progress frustrated him. Hermione had seemed to be on the edge of finding a useable memory towards the end of the lesson. At least, Harry had *thought* he'd seen a wisp of smoke come out of her wand there at the very end. It had been so insubstantial he couldn't be sure, though. It could just have been wishful thinking.

Once they returned to their dorms, Harry settled himself on his bed, and Hedwig came and landed on his knee. Harry had begun to try to see through Hedwig's eyes again after that first, overwhelming attempt. He'd even managed it - for less than a second - a couple times. Unfortunately, he got so startled every time, he lost the concentration needed to pull it off. While they'd been working on it, they had discovered that it was far less overwhelming if Hedwig's eyes were at about the level Harry's were, and looking in the same direction. Hence her coming to sit on his knee.

While the actual seeing wasn't going all that well, Harry had come to enjoy the attempts for the increased closeness with Hedwig. With their lives becoming busier, the attempts to see out of her eyes had become their dedicated us-time, where the two of them concentrated on each other to the exclusion of everyone and everything else.

Harry grinned at Hedwig and stroked her back briefly.

//Ready, Harry?//

//Yep. Let's do this.//

Touching Hedwig's mind was becoming less disorienting every time they did this, and taking less time to accomplish. Harry was beginning to get used to the radical differences between owl thinking - even a familiar's - and human. The difference in sensory input and how Hedwig perceived and stored it was a bit trickier. Hedwig's hearing was ... nearly as different as her vision, and it always took Harry a second to adjust and push the mental 'tracking' of her hearing aside. There would eventually come a day when they tried for hearing, then hearing and sight together, but that was going to have to wait for when Harry could manage seeing easily and consistently.

Finally, Harry managed to get hold of Hedwig's visual input. To his surprise, instead of seeing something instantly, he was ... not seeing anything. It took half a second for him to realize Hedwig had closed her eyes.

//New wrinkle?// With their minds this tangled together, the question had an echo to it, as Harry picked up on Hedwig hearing it, then on himself hearing Hedwig hear it, and so on.

//Thought it might help.// Hedwig said, and then slowly opened her eyes.

It did - sort of. At least, the jump from 'human vision' to 'owl vision' wasn't quite as jarring. But the differences were still such that it still startled the hell out of Harry, making him jump. This time, though, he managed to not completely lose his 'grip' on her vision, though everything swam alarmingly for a second. But then it settled, and Harry got more than a split-second glimpse of the dorm through her eyes.

Thankfully, the close connection with her mind gave him the knowledge of *what* he was seeing, because it was more than a little strange. The colors were off, for one thing. Not quite as vibrant, in some cases, though Harry had been suspecting that would be the case - from everything he'd ever heard, most animals didn't have the same color-producing apparatuses in their eyes that humans did. For some, that meant fewer colors, for what seemed like a very rare few, it was more, mostly into the ultraviolet spectrum.

He was sincerely amused to discover that apparently, owls were farsighted - the exact opposite of his own vision problem. But by far the most disconcerting aspect of owl vision was the complete inability to *move* the eye. It wasn't like Harry hadn't known owls couldn't move their eyes - he'd known that even before Hedwig had bonded to him. But moving the eye to look rather than the head was the human way, and not being able to was rather jarring.

Harry managed to hold on for something like five seconds before he had to pull back, his concentration starting to go as a headache built.

"Well, we managed for more than half a second, Hedwig. We're finally getting somewhere!"


	27. Fun, Games, and Tragedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be advised, mention and discussion of someone committing suicide at the end of the chapter.

Fun, Games, and Tragedy

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 18 - October 6 1992 Black Manor

In the end, it took the combined know-how of Alastor, Bill, Sirius and Remus - with frequent consultations with the goblins and Severus, and frequent assistance from various members of the Alliance to boot - nearly three weeks to cleanse Black Manor of the lingering taint of the horcrux.

They'd practically had to demolish the place in the process, as the taint had soaked into literally everything in the house - even the wards. Bill and Sirius had spent the best part of one week just stripping down all the wards on the house and cleansing the wardstone in the basement. Re-casting some of the wards had taken up most of a second week. Some of the wards didn't get put back up because they were Dark Arts wards, or just plain unnecessary - Sirius' ancestors had been a paranoid and crazy bunch, and some of the wards they had applied to the house or items within it made that pretty clear. Worse, they'd found at least four wards that neither Bill nor Sirius had ever seen before, which had necessitated yet more research to figure out how to take them down.

It was discovered during this time that Kreacher was in worse condition than had been initially suspected. Given that they'd known he had been in the house with the horcrux, their expectations hadn't been all that good to begin with, so Kreacher had been in really bad shape. Evidently, the fact he'd spent the bulk of the last decade trying to destroy the horcrux was at the root of the problem. It had meant he'd not just been in the house with it, but had had it literally in hand very frequently. He'd also been casting magic on it trying to destroy the thing, and that had evidently allowed the horcrux to wrap its taint even tighter around the elf. On top of that, Kreacher had been punishing himself for his inability to destroy the thing in various inventive ways, including starving himself. 

Thankfully, the damage, while severe, had still been reversible. It had just taken a lot more time and effort than initially planned for, meaning that Kreacher was in the care of the goblins the entire time the house was being cleansed and re-warded. According to the goblins' progress reports, Kreacher would need a bit of feeding up still once he returned to the house, but other than that, he'd be fine.

Sirius would probably never truly like Kreacher - there'd been too much antagonism between them when Sirius had been younger for that - but he was definitely far more sympathetic towards the elf at this point. Just thinking about what Kreacher had been put through and exposed to gave Sirius the willies. It also engendered more than a little respect for the fact that Kreacher hadn't succumbed, either to death or to being completely consumed by the horcrux or its taint.

The day they finished cleansing the manor coincided with the day Kreacher was finally able to return to the house. Sirius did a double take when Kreacher popped in. Oh, he'd gotten the progress reports, but seeing was believing. While still visibly elderly, Kreacher had regained a lot of the normal house-elf vitality, and wasn't moving like a decrepit old man. His skin no longer hung off his bones and he wasn't deathly pale anymore either.

Kreacher looked around and then favored Sirius with a titanic scowl. "Master Black is not to be doing cleaning!" He scolded. "That is being Kreacher's job!"

Sirius snorted in startled amusement. Kreacher's voice was still a bullfrog croak, but his tone had been entirely devoid of the loathing that had been so evident a month previously. Sirius wasn't sure if that was an effect of Kreacher being cleansed of the taint or something else, but it was weird to hear. "It's yours from here on out, Kreacher. We sort of had to clean in order to get the taint out of the house."

The house had lost the oppressive, depressing aura it'd had completely. Sirius felt like more than a bit of a dolt to have not realized something was amiss. As much as he'd hated this house as a kid, it'd never had such an aura back then. Sirius had dismissed it as either a fanciful imagination, a heightened sensitivity to negative emotions and memories thanks to his time in Azkaban, or the result of a decade of neglect. Now that he knew there'd been a horcrux in the house, it seemed obvious that the aura's persistence had had another cause that he should have realized, even if a flipping horcrux as the cause had never occurred to him.

Kreacher gave Sirius a look like he didn't quite believe him. Sirius fought down an amused smirk. "Just so you know, you'll have the place to yourself on the eleventh. The folks that got turned in Birmingham will be having their first full moon that night, and both Remus and I'll be there with them."

September's full moon had been a mere ten days after the folks had gotten bitten, which hadn't allowed them to change that month - though all of them had been very twitchy and snarly that night. They'd still been healing from the attack, and their bodies had still been ... converting, if only just, as it took about two weeks for all the changes to take place before they'd be able to transform on full moon nights.

Sirius had opted to go as a reminder to all of them that not everyone was going to be an asshole about their status as werewolves. Severus had also wanted a pair of eyes on everyone, since they were all taking the wolfsbane. No one had ever exposed werewolves to wolfsbane before their first transformation before this. So there was no telling what effects it'd have on them. Severus himself wasn't willing to be within ten miles of the place the werewolves were using as their base, not that Sirius blamed him. Even he was a bit nervous about that night, and he had an animagus form to hide behind.

October 7, 1992 Ministry

Of course, cleansing the manor hadn't been the only thing Sirius and the others had been doing with the last three weeks. Sirius had been chatting up as many folks as he could manage, Alliance or otherwise, the make Thurkell's road to the Minister's seat as smooth as possible. It had been a bit of a challenge, actually. Thicknesse had, thanks to the recent attacks and the dim view a lot of folks took of them and the folks who had perpetrated them, had to couch his ... rhetoric ... in careful terms. He was either enough of a politician - or being coached by a very savvy sort - that he managed to make pureblood dogma sound sane and reasonable and not like pureblood dogma at all.

That had resulted in a need to spell things out for some folks, since they hadn't quite realized what Thicknesse was saying. Not because they were stupid or anything, but because Thicknesse was just that sneaky and careful with his words.

Sirius was pretty confident that he'd managed to get his point across, but that didn't stop him from spending most of Election Day pacing about. He'd gone in early to cast his vote, and most of the Alliance had done likewise, save those who had early shifts at whatever jobs they were working. Everyone had then congregated in the meeting room Thurkell was using as his campaign office as they waited for the vote count.

Sirius was just grateful that magic made vote counting both faster and less controversial than it seemed to be in the muggle world, if tales he'd heard about the subject were anything to go by. The magical voting process was both surprisingly simplistic and extremely complex.

In the first place, there were only two voting places in the UK 'proper'. One in Northern Ireland so that the folks there didn't have to apparate across the ocean just to vote, and a place at the Ministry. There were further voting places convenient to the colonies, spread out such that no one had to go ridiculous distances to vote. Those were, however, not a concern this time, as this was an emergency vote, and the speed with which it had been organized had made it impossible for the colonies to know what was going on or have informed opinions of who they wanted in the spot. Whoever was elected would serve out the remainder of Fudge's original term, at which point they'd lobby to keep the job and normal voting would take place.

The names of the contestants were written out on special parchment under a header of whatever office they were running for. You tapped whichever was your choice with your wand and said a brief incantation that marked that choice. When you were done, you said another brief incantation to seal the parchment (and your choices) and then dropped it in a box. The box was enchanted to 'read' the parchments instantly, and tally the votes. At the end of the voting period, the boxes portkeyed to the Ministry or the local government center if it was a vote for a colony's elected positions, where a 'master box' added up the boxes' votes and the winners were declared. The ballots and boxes were rife with spells that prevented cheating, voting under Imperius or other compulsion spells or potions, and all other attempts to meddle with the votes that the most fertile minds in the Unspeakables could come up with.

Even with the empire-wide votes, the voting tallies were official within five minutes of the closing of voting. Usually faster than that, since all that had to be done was someone checking the master vote box after the voting hours were over to see the grand total. Sadly, for all the end results were available so much faster - at least officially, since Sirius had heard rumors of unofficial counts being available pretty darn quick these days - there was no way to shorten the worst part of the whole thing - the waiting for voting hours to be over.

As nervous as he was, Sirius honestly didn't know how Thurkell and other would-be elected officials could handle it. Sirius' only stake in this whole mess was whether or not they'd have a problematic Minister to deal with or not. Which, admittedly, given the situation, was a big worry, but still.

In the end, the worrying was all for naught. Thurkell won by a massive margin. Sirius decided to take that as an indication of how well the whole 'Death Eaters are bad, let's do something about them' campaign he'd been on had soaked into the average person's brain.

"And now the real fun begins." Thurkell said once the news arrived. "The next few years are going to be ... interesting."

With two full years and a few months left in Fudge's term, they had plenty of time to enact a lot of their plans before the next regular election, and both Sirius and Thurkell knew it.

Provided Thurkell managed to stay alive. Neither man was dumb enough to think that Voldemort wouldn't try to eliminate a Minister that was not a supporter. Sirius knew that Thurkell had not just his personal house elf, but two or three backups to watch over him and foil any attempts on his life that they could. And that was on top of the normal security team that the Minister was able to utilize if needed.

"First thing's first - we start getting the recent crap laws off the books, like we planned. Sell it as cleaning house after an incompetent Minister." Sirius said. "I'll work on adding the laws we do want on the books. With pretty much all the Neutrals and most of the Light families voting along the same lines, Voldie's crew won't stand a chance."

Thurkell nodded. "Not that he won't have his people try, but even before he lost Malfoy, he was never going to win. Without Malfoy ... " Thurkell made an amused face. "He doesn't have any real heavy hitters politically speaking."

Sirius nodded. Really, circumstances had conspired to make the political end of things much easier than they could have been. Oh, Sirius, especially wielding Harry's proxy vote, could have forced laws through, but he'dve gotten a lot of resistance in the process, and would have faced a lot of problems out of the political arena in folks' attempts to shut him up. Malfoy coming over Neutral, Dumbledore getting muzzled and then killed, and Fudge getting voted out of office had all ensured there really wasn't much of anyone who could rally even a half-assed fight against Sirius' efforts.

October 11, 1992 Werewolf Sanctuary

Immediately after the Birmingham attack, Sirius and Harry had put their heads together and found a property among the Black and Potter holdings that could be used as a safe place for werewolves to weather their transformations. They'd picked a good-sized cottage out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a high wall. With house elf assistance, the place had been fortified and warded to a fare-thee-well.

Remus, the half-dozen new werewolves and the dozen or so older werewolves that had joined the Alliance had all arrived at the cottage the morning of the tenth, just to be on the safe side.

Remus had spent most of his life avoiding other werewolves like they had the plague. Oh, he knew 'decent' werewolves existed, of course, but Fenrir had done a rather good job of making Remus leery of trying to interact with other werewolves. On top of that, Remus had spent most of his life doing his level best to pretend he wasn't a werewolf. He failed rather spectacularly, obviously, but he'd tried. Hanging out with fellow werewolves would have made even trying impossible.

That had come to an end with Birmingham. Remus had found himself drawn to the child victims - they'd all been turned by Fenrir, and that made them siblings, in a twisted sort of way. That aside, Remus knew what it was like to be where they were at right now, and hadn't seen a reason to not offer what comfort and help he could.

Things had rather snowballed from there. Within the week, the six kids had taken to following Remus around as he worked like goslings after their mother. Four of the kids, on top of now being werewolves, were also orphans, their parents victims to either a werewolf or a vampire. Right before that first full moon - the one they hadn't been fully infected for and thus hadn't transformed - one of the orphaned kids had ended up in Remus' bed after a nasty nightmare. Less than a week after that found Remus with all four orphans curled up in balls on his bed at night. After that, the four kids could be found sleeping in Remus' bed most nights.

With orphaned kids looking to him for emotional support, it had really only been a small step for Remus to start actually parenting them, at least a little. But keeping track of four traumatized kids with everything else he had to do in a day wasn't easy, and one by one the adult victims had been drawn into caring for the kids under his watch. At first it had been in an effort to take their minds off their own problems, but gradually ... well.

The point was that somehow in the five weeks Remus had become a de facto Pack Alpha without quite realizing it or even trying particularly hard. It was something that Remus had never, ever considered for himself. Above and beyond his disinclination to interact with other werewolves, Remus knew he really didn't have the sort of dominant personality and leadership skills that generally went with being a leader of anything, never mind a werewolf pack. And yet here he was, having fallen into it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He knew that eventually the kids would gravitate either towards one of the Alpha werewolves in the Alliance or a non-were with a dominant personality as they settled into being werewolves. He would just enjoy playing Pied Piper until it happened. Although it was possible the eldest of the four orphans, who was nearly eleven, might hold out and stay with Remus as their Alpha. Remus would have to wait and see.

The thing about being a werewolf - and part of the reason Fenrir bit kids, the 'psychopath' thing aside - was that it came with a lot of changes in mentality. Adults, whose personalities etc were basically set and settled would both notice the changes and resist them to varying degrees of success. Teenagers and pre-teens, while they were still developing, had the whole rebelling against authority thing going on that could help them resist. Kids under ten - not so much. The younger they were, the less likely they were to even fully understand what the heck was going on at all, never mind recognizing and fighting off changes in how they thought and their general personalities.

The end result was someone who was far more swayed by 'wolf' thinking in the long run. In the short term, they were far more easily controlled and influenced than an adult or teenager. That made them ideal victims for Fenrir, since it was pretty much the only way he could have a pack under his control. Even the werewolves that liked biting people etc generally acknowledged that Fenrir was ... not right in the head, to put it nicely. He was as unstable in his way as Voldemort had been near the end of the first war, if for (at least, Remus devoutly hoped - the idea of Fenrir having one - or more than one - horcrux gave him the willies) completely different reasons.

No one would be deliberately trying to encourage the newly turned kids' 'wolf' mentalities in the Alliance of course. Still, they would eventually begin to instinctively gravitate towards a 'leader' to follow, since they didn't have their parents to turn to. How long that would take would depend on their ages and their previous personalities. The older and or more stubborn ones would take longer, and generally succumb less than the others.

Remus had been both amused and intrigued by the fact that Tonks had been around the kids virtually nonstop. She'd been of invaluable help. Her naturally bubbly, vivacious personality and willingness to make a fool of herself had gone a long way to helping the kids forget about their trauma for a few minutes here and there, allowing them to laugh and remember that they were kids.

If she had an ulterior motive for hanging around - one that most of the adults, werewolf or not, had cottoned on to within a week - Remus remained blissfully ignorant of it. At least for now. Amusingly enough, the new, adult werewolves took Tonks' interest in Remus as a good sign. It meant that they would not spend their lives single, or forced to settle for a significant other from just the werewolf population.

She couldn't be here today, obviously. Though not for lack of wanting to be. Remus was fairly sure she'd try to become an animagus if she could, just so she didn't have to be left behind on full moons.

They spent most of the day just lounging around, hardly even engaging in conversation. The new folks weren't used to the aches, pains, and overly grumpy temperament that kicked into gear a day or two before the full moon, so they weren't much in a mood to do anything. They were also all freaking out, to varying degrees, about transforming for the first time.

Sirius arrived about two hours before sunset.

"How'd it go?" Remus asked. Not that he'd actually be able to concentrate on what Sirius was saying - not this close to moonrise - but the distraction helped with the mounting discomfort.

"Good. Really good. Early days, of course, but having Thurkell in the Minister's seat is making our lives a lot easier politically speaking. I don't doubt but that Voldemort will compensate somehow, but I'll take any wins we get." Sirius said, then made a face. "No news from Dobby yet on the ... presents ... " 

They'd agreed to not speak of the Horcruxes as such in front of anyone. The fewer people knew about that, the better. Less because they were worried someone would imitate Voldie and more because they didn't want people to panic.

"But it's early days there, as well, and a lot of ground to cover looking for them." Sirius continued.

Remus gave a distracted nod, then winced as the first twinge of real pain chased its way through his body. It felt rather like someone was taking an ice pick to his joints. The worst part was that this was an improvement - a vast one - over what it was like when he hadn't had the wolfsbane. Back then, transformations had been as close to torture as made no never mind.

"And that's my cue to shift, I think. If you're starting to feel it, the others won't be far behind you." Sirius said, and promptly shifted to Padfoot. He left the room, pulling the door mostly shut with a big paw in deference to Remus' desire to transform as much in private as was possible. He'd be waiting right outside the door, though, Remus knew. He pushed the door closed the rest of the way.

It was probably not the best idea to do this alone, rather than with the rest of the group, Remus knew, but old habits died very hard. Still, he'd be able to check in on the others as soon as he got his legs under him, thanks to retaining his mind, so it wasn't *too* selfish.

He paced around, both to take his mind off the rising pain and to vent some of his increasing agitation as the sun began to set and the moon began to rise.

The actual transformation, when it finally hit, took him by surprise as it always did. Even if he was actively watching the sun set, that moment when the full moon's presence exerted its influence never stopped startling him. It didn't help that the actual transformation, even with the wolfsbane, felt very much like getting hit by a car, minus the physical impact and getting flung around. Something that Remus could say from experience, as he'd been run down by a cabbie once, so he could compare the two.

It always took him a good ten or fifteen minutes to recover from the pain of the transformation, get his legs under him, and get used to the enhanced senses. Oh, his senses were somewhat enhanced as a human thanks to being a werewolf, but it had nothing on what it was like when he was a wolf. Even with magic involved, the human brain could only process so much when it came to the senses without radical, permanent changes being effected.

The one nice thing about the not-quite-a-wolf body was that he retained hands, though they were now tipped with seriously nasty claws and not *quite* fully human in structure. They were close enough to still be used as hands. Thank goodness that before the wolfsbane, he hadn't retained the wit to remember how to use them as such, or he'dve been able to get out of the Shrieking Shack without Padfoot or Prongs there. That would have led to far too much tragedy for Remus' peace of mind. Severus wouldn't have been the only one to end up paying for Dumbledore's rather lackadaisical approach to keeping a werewolf contained. Far too many of the students and town residents had investigated the Shack or just been out and about at unfortunate times back in Remus' school days.

He opened the door and Padfoot bounced in, tail wagging madly. While Remus still was able to think like a human, being transformed did increase the wolfish trains of thought and instincts quite a bit. So he found himself play-wrestling with Padfoot without quite planning to do so, responding to Padfoot's body language and his own wolfish joy at seeing his packmate. The wolf in him remembered the long, painful years when he'd had no pack and tended to get rather overly happy and excited to have Padfoot back since they'd reunited.

Eventually, Padfoot managed to win their play-fight - mostly by dint of sitting on Remus' chest and going boneless, which had the result of making him seem about four times heavier than he really was. After a minute or two, Remus shoved and wiggled and squirmed until he got Padfoot off him and then led the way towards where the others had been housed for the transformations.

Remus headed straight for the kids, most worried about how they were handling the transformation. The moment he opened the door - the kids weren't quite adapted enough to their new bodies to manage that - he got mowed down by a half-dozen furry bodies.

There was a good bit of panic and fear mixed with excitement and curiosity in their body language, meaning they were as intrigued by the changes as they were scared of them. Which was, really, about as good as it could get. Much to Remus' amusement, the youngest of the kids started trying to chase their own stubby tail in the furor of the kids' greeting of him, overwrought by all the excitement.

Thank goodness for Padfoot. It took the both of them to sort the kids out and get them calmed down a little. At that point they trooped off to check on the adults. Fortunately, the more experienced werewolves in the Alliance had been on hand for the adults.

The news from that quarter was mixed. Two of the new wolves were a bit sullen and more or less pouting in a corner. One had gotten into a knock-down, drag-out fight with the experienced were who'd checked on them, though why that had happened Remus didn't know, and wouldn't until they could all talk again. There could be any number of reasons for it. Fortunately, for all its ferocity, the fight had been very brief, as the new were hadn't had a clue how to move in their new body, never mind fight. The more experienced were had gotten them down and submitting pretty quickly and without having to resort to bloodshed. The other three adults were all varying shades of fine. One of the three was nearly as wound up as the kids.

Once everyone had gathered together, Remus helped the experienced weres get the new folks used to their new bodies. It took a bit of doing, as the 'wolf' body was very oddly proportioned, with a mix of wolf and human characteristics. The overly long, skinny limbs really didn't help. If you weren't careful, it was way too easy to get them tangled up and end up flat on your face.

The rest of the evening ... well. It brought back memories of running with Padfoot and Prongs (Remus willfully ignored the memories of the third companion these days) - times about a hundred. The kids, once they'd gotten their legs under them, seemed unwilling to just curl up and sleep the transformation off. They ended up in one big play fight, tumbling over each other and generally making quite a racket, then breaking up to (playfully) antagonize one or another of the adults into playing with them. Under their influence, only one of the new adult wolves - the one who'd had the hardest time dealing with their new reality - stayed in a bad mood. The others all eventually gave in to the kids' high spirits.

Eventually they all collapsed into sleep a couple hours before dawn. Remus managed to stay awake long enough to return to the room he'd transformed in, so that he'd not have to scramble to get there come dawn. He might eventually become comfortable with people being present when he transformed, but today was not that day.

As bad as the moonrise transformation was, the dawn transformation was worse. Probably because he was normally awake all night, adding being tired at the very least to the equation. Depending on the night's events, there was generally more than that to be added. Injures, sometimes severe ones, back when he hadn't had the wolfsbane, as he'd torn himself up for lack of human targets no matter how hard the Marauders had tried to divert his attention. Bumps, bruises, and general wear-and-tear when he had the wolfsbane, from running around all night.

He'd caught his breath and crawled back into bed, too worn out and in too much pain to do anything else, and laid there for about half a minute before Padfoot walked in and pushed the door shut with his head, then transformed back to human.

"Well, nobody seemed to have reacted negatively to having been on the wolfsbane from the get-go. Unless the kids' hyper activeness was caused by it. Which really, if that's the worst problem they're gonna have, I think we can call it a success." Sirius said, wandering into the attached bathroom as he talked, and coming out with some water.

"Here." Sirius held the water out. 

He knew Remus was always quite thirsty in the wake of the transformation. Why, Remus had never quite figured out, but he was. Remus reached for the cup, grateful that Sirius kept hold of it automatically until he was sure Remus had a good grip on it, as settling back into a fully human body took a little bit and tended to result in tripping over his feet or dropping things sometimes if he rushed it in the hours after a transformation.

Remus drained the cup. Sirius handed over a potion vial - heavy-duty pain reliever by the look of it. Once he was sure Remus had a good grip on the vial, he got up to refill the cup so Remus could clear the taste out of his mouth.

Once the potion and second cup of water were down the hatch, Remus flopped back onto the bed.

"Sleep, Remus. I'll check in on everyone else, though hopefully there won't be any problems." Sirius said. 

Remus mumbled his agreement and was asleep within minutes.

Much later, just before noon, Remus woke. He was still stiff and sore - and would be for several days - but he was feeling good enough to get mobile. He doubted the new weres would be the same. The pain took some getting used to.

He wandered out into the main part of the cottage, to find a grim-faced group waiting for him, comprised of Sirius and the other experienced weres.

"What happened?" Remus wanted to know.

Sirius sighed. "Heath killed himself this morning." He admitted.

Remus flinched. Heath had been the one having the most trouble dealing with his new reality. He'd been one of the two weres who'd shut themselves in a room and refused all contact with everyone since being bitten. The second had gradually, reluctantly and not without quite a bit of complaining started to come around. They were still in the process of accepting their situation, but they were at least making moves that direction. Heath ... hadn't. He'd had something of an air of a man going to his execution when they'd had to break into his self-imposed isolation and bring him to the cottage, Remus remembered.

"Damn it." He sighed, then sank into a chair. "I mean, I think we were all kind of expecting it. The odds on everyone adapting and accepting ... " Remus made a face. "But I'm also sure we were all hoping this would be an exception to the rule." He shot Sirius a look. "Remind me to kick Fenrir's ass extra hard if I ever get to fight him, will you?"

Sirius snorted, but nodded. "If I don't get to him first, sure."

"Everyone else ok?" Remus asked.

"Yeah. If you're up, they won't be too far behind, though the kids might sleep for a few more hours yet. They kind of ran themselves ragged last night." Sirius said, managing an amused look for the kids' exuberance the night before.

"Who was it that attacked somebody?" Given a few more moons, Remus would be able to identify folks by their looks and scents in wolf form, but this first one, not so much.

"Heath. Given this morning, I think he was hoping for a different outcome." Sirius said with a sigh.

Remus grimaced. "You're probably right." He admitted.


	28. Discoveries and Plots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for how long it took me to post this. My muse was playing hard to get.

Discoveries and Plots

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]  
**Private thoughts**

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

October 13 1992 Potter Castle

Dobby was both thrilled and a little ashamed of himself. Ok, more than a little.

He'd spent the near-month since the discovery of the horcruxes popping around the UK hoping to pick up on one of them. That search had largely been in vain until he'd tried Diagon Alley. At which point he'd picked up on one in the direction of Gringotts.

He'd been happy to have found one, hence the thrilled. But a few seconds later, something had occurred to him, very belatedly. He'd felt a horcrux before the locket and the diadem. It had been over a decade ago, which probably accounted for why he didn't immediately remember, but he had.

Which was where the shame came in. Firstly that he had forgotten, and secondly ... well. Now he was in the position of having to betray one of his Masters' secrets. Oh, Master wasn't really Master anymore of course, but still. Protecting Masters' (or Mistress', as the case may be) secrets was instinctive for House Elves.

It was a problem because Dobby was not going to touch the Horcrux in Master's house. He didn't even really want to go in the house at all, now that he knew it was there. Even though he knew Master had the secret room where the horcrux had been stored warded so that the Dark Arts items in there didn't affect anyone in the house. He'dve had a problem even if he'd been willing to handle the horcrux, as there were numerous wards around the room the thing was in. That wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that while none of the wards could keep him out, every last one of them could affect him in some way or other, and he didn't have a clue how to negate them. For that, he'd need either Lucius or the cursebreaker Weasley.

Then again ... maybe the wards had not been enough to protect his family. Dobby wouldn't know and wasn't about to speculate. At least, not much. It'd answer for why Master got so mean. There had been a time when he wasn't.

"Bad Dobby. Thinking bad things about Master." Dobby muttered, only barely restraining the urge to punish himself for such a thought. Being injured wouldn't help him in his tasks.

Dobby could get through the house wards without a problem. Unfortunately, the same was not true for humans. Voldemort and his followers had (wisely) vacated Malfoy Manor in the wake of Master's escape. Master had returned to the manor after they had left just long enough to set the wards to kill anyone not of Malfoy blood that tried to enter the house - which would take effect the moment they appeared in the house if Dobby 'popped' them in. While Dobby was pretty sure the cursebreaker Wheezy could get through the wards from outside the house, that bothered Dobby. People shouldn't be allowed to break Master's things. Not only that, but it went against the grain to let people in Master's house without his permission. Unfortunately, the only other choice was to go to Master. And somehow Dobby didn't think that was the best idea.

In the end, it was knowing that if he didn't say anything, you-know-who would never be gone for good that got Dobby to push past old instincts and training and head for Potter Castle to tell them he'd found horcruxes. If the matter hadn't dealt with that monster, or affected Harry Potter (whom Dobby all but worshipped) Dobby might not have been able to break a lifetime's personal training and thousands of years worth of training for his species in general. As it was, it was lucky that it *was* Dobby having to make those decisions. Dobby had always been a little odd, a little more independent than the norm. The vast majority of house elves would never have been able to survive being freed, much less doing the things Dobby had been doing on his own recognizance since he'd been freed.

He headed for Potter Castle.

He found Master Black with his werewolf friend. Dobby, having had to be around Fenrir Greyback and others of his ilk more than once, was rather leery of Lupin. He seemed nice enough, but Dobby wasn't willing to take chances. As such, he never got within five feet of Lupin, and remained ready to pop out in an instant if he ever showed signs of getting aggressive.

"Master Black sir?"

Sirius glanced up when the house elf popped in. "Dobby! Good to see you. Need anything?" He asked.

Dobby shuffled from foot to foot for a second, then answered. "Dobby is finding two bad things." He told Sirius. "Dobby can't get close to one of them - it is being hid somewhere in Gringotts, and the goblins be having wards that keeps house elves out of the tunnels and vaults."

Dobby could pop into the bank proper, and could even sneak past the goblins and into the tunnels on foot. That said, he could conceivably end up spending the rest of his life down there trying to find the right vault, never mind getting into it once he found it. And that didn't account for what the goblins would do if they ever caught him down there, which meant he'd spend as much time trying to evade the goblins as searching for the horcrux.

Sirius grimaced. "Oh, they're going to *love* this. I wonder how they missed the fact they had one of those things in there, if they've encountered them before like Bill says they have."

"Goblins is being able to sense bad magics, Master Black sir, but they is not being able to sense *how* it is bad." Dobby offered. "Not unless it be right in front of them."

"So they can tell they've got Dark Arts stuff by the tonne down in the vaults, but they can't tell it's a piece of soul unless they have direct access to it. Whoever put it down there probably warded it to hell and gone specifically to keep them from realizing there was something Black Arts in the vault. The goblins can't, by treaty, do a damn thing with vault contents unless there's Black Arts stuff in the vault." Sirius said.

"Merlin knows that pureblood families have a tendency to store all their Dark arts stuff in Gringotts because the treaties only forbid Black Arts, and the goblins won't let the government raid vaults without about a thousand miles of red tape and six sacrifices." He continued. 

Sirius was exaggerating, but not by all that much. The goblins were notorious for giving the Ministry conniptions at every turn. "Though how some Death Eater or Voldemort himself snuck the damn thing into a vault past their goblin escort is a damn good question."

Sirius re-focused on Dobby. "So that's one. What about the other?"

Dobby swallowed and shuffled his feet again. "It is being at ... " He choked briefly, but then forced himself to say it. "Malfoy Manor."

Dobby started to lunge to whack his head on something for betraying his Master so, but Sirius anticipated him. He'd not known what Dobby was going to say, of course, but he knew the signs of a house elf about to preemptively discipline itself. So he managed to grab Dobby and keep him from smacking himself silly on the nearest solid object.

"Whoah, Dobby. Hold up. No punishing yourself." Sirius told him, then frowned. "Lucius had one?"

Dobby managed to pull himself back together at Sirius' order. "Dobby is thinking that Master did not know what it was he was given, sir. Dobby does not think Master would have kept something like that in the house with Master Draco."

Sirius thought that one over for a second before nodding. "Good point." He agreed. He might not like Lucius, but the man had been willing to do whatever it took to see his son free and safe. Sirius couldn't imagine that he'd willingly risk his son living in the same house as a horcrux if he'd known that's what he'd been given by Voldemort.

"Can you get us into the Manor?" Sirius asked.

"Dobby can't." Dobby admitted. "Master put wards on lethal setting before he left, so that bad peoples can't break in and use it. Dobby can go in, and so can other Malfoy elves, but peoples all be being killed the moment they enter."

"So we either need Lucius to undo the wards, or have Bill take them down the hard way." Sirius said, already turning the pros and cons to each option over in his mind. "Right. I'll figure out what to do there in the next couple days. In the meantime, Dobby, you and I need to head for Gringotts."

(_)(_)(_)

October 13, 1992 Gringotts

"You are certain?" Ragnok demanded, glowering viciously in Dobby's direction. He wasn't angry at Dobby, of course, but that was hardly reassuring in the face of an enraged goblin.

Beside Sirius, Dobby was trembling in fear and clinging to Sirius' robe. Pissed off goblins were not fun to deal with even for humans. Most house elves, being far less assertive than your average human, would have been in far worse shape than Dobby was at the moment. "Dobby is sure." Dobby said, his voice wobbling a bit. "It is being down there somewhere. Dobby just doesn't know where."

Ragnok looked about ready to literally rip someone limb from limb. Sirius could sympathize with that. Goblins loathed Black Magic in its entirety, and hated cheaters and cowards only a little less. Horcruxes were all three, as goblins viewed such a thing as trying to cheat death because you were afraid of dying. Sirius figured they weren't really wrong in that view.

"We had already started auditing the Death Eater vaults quietly." Ragnok admitted. 

The goblins were well aware of Voldemort's views on all things not human. As such they were highly inclined to assist in any way they could to keep such a being from rising to power. As the treaties governing goblin/wizard relations specifically forbade the storage of Black Arts items, with heavy, punitive punishments outlined for those that broke the rule, the goblins had a completely legal way to help. 

Dark Arts items were permitted in the vaults as what was considered Dark Arts changed over time. Things that were not actually evil or morally reprehensible, just questionable or morally grey - and in some cases over the years, things that were benign - got outlawed from time to time due to ignorance, superstition, or some other agenda. For instance, all magic requiring the use of blood had been labeled Dark Arts well over a hundred years ago. While there were definitely questionable or outright evil uses blood could be put to, there was an equal number of benign and even beneficial uses it could be put to as well. Witness what Lily Potter had done to protect her son. While the goblins didn't know, any more than anyone else, what exactly Lily had done, the odds of it having been a blood sacrifice ritual were extremely high.

Because the definition of 'Dark Arts' changed from time to time, it was entirely possible that things once labeled 'Dark Arts' might get reclassified. In many cases, exactly that had happened. Pureblood families, loathe to destroy what were frequently family heirlooms in the face of a new law that might get changed in as little as five years if the current Minister got booted out of office, stashed newly-defined Dark Arts items in their family vaults.

Black Arts, on the other hand, was defined as any magical application (spell, potion, ward etc) or item whose sole use was to torture or kill - or whose creation required the torture or death of a sapient being of any description. Avada Kedavra and Crucio were the best known of the Black Arts. Imperio, while considered an Unforgivable in recent times and frequently decried as a Black Art, was not actually a Black Art. In the first place, its uses were not limited to torture or death. Further, its original use had been as a Healer spell, to prevent those intent on self harm from carrying out that intent, or to calm a patient who was agitated enough that other methods of calming them weren't working or couldn't be applied either due to their condition or because they were thrashing around too much. As such, it was technically a Dark Art.

"I will ensure that efforts are stepped up. None of those examining the vaults has found such an obscenity yet, but as we have been attempting to audit the vaults without alerting their owners, we have not managed to check as many vaults as I would like." Ragnok said, still glowering fiercely.

While the goblins were completely within their rights to inspect the vaults for Black Arts items, they hadn't wanted to alert the Death Eaters that they were doing so. The Death Eaters would then remove anything along those lines from their vaults. Which would mean that the goblins wouldn't have an excuse to freeze their assets in retribution, thus crippling Voldemort's campaign by depriving him of as much money as they could manage. They had planned to inspect all the vaults in question, then close all the ones dumb enough to hide Black Arts stuff at the same time so no one could warn their fellows.

Ragnok foresaw a lot of work for his people tonight. Every last goblin trained to deal with Dark and Black Arts was going to get drafted into a vault inspection team, and all the vaults were going to be gone through before dawn. Ragnok wasn't about to permit a Black Arts item of any description to remain in what was technically Goblin territory.

"We will waste no more of your valuable time, Director." Sirius said at that point. "Thank you for the audience."

Ragnok snorted. "No, thank you. And those vaults will all be inspected by dawn. I will let you know who had the thing, and what it was."

Sirius bowed as he stood. "My thanks, Director."

(_)(_)(_)

October 13, 1992 Romania

Things were not nearly so dire in the Dragon Preserve. As more and more of the dragons began to permit their handlers to fly with them, then to obey directions in flight, the handlers rather understandably got more and more giddy. Despite the eventual, very serious application of their efforts, it was kind of hard to be all sober and serious about getting to ride a dragon.

One of their number, a muggleborn, had the bright idea to introduce the dragon handlers to a certain series of books about dragons that had riders and worked to defend their world. It didn't take long for many of the ideas presented in the books - at least those regarding dragon riding anyway - to be adopted by the handlers. Granted, they had a lot more challenges than did their book counterparts. Pernese dragons were, after all, *all* of human-level intelligence and capable of communicating with humans, which was not the case for 'real' dragons. They were also much more inclined to working together.

Still, the handlers started working with the dragons in pairs and triads, depending on which dragons could or would tolerate each other. Unsurprisingly, the Common Welsh Greens, by far the most placid of the dragon breeds, proved to be the breed that worked best in a group. As they got more comfortable in each other's presence, attempts were made to get them to fly in formations, with varying amounts of success.

All that said, for months now the handlers had been stalled on how to get the dragons to flame at all, much less on command. While the complete cessation of burn injuries when working with the 'tamed' dragons had been a relief to all the handlers in the wake of actively training the dragons, the dragons would be of limited use in the coming war if they could only fly over enemy encampments. That would be enough to scare holy hell out of folks for a little bit, but once people figured out the dragons wouldn't flame, the fear factor would disappear.

For once, though, it wasn't Seren - or any of the male dragons, regardless of species - that provided the breakthrough. Nor was it a female of any of the more placid species. No, it was a female Hungarian Horntail. One that under different circumstances would have ended up on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch two years and five weeks (give or take a few days) from now.

Horntails had consistently been the last to reach the many milestones towards domestication and mutual cooperation with their handlers. It really shouldn't have surprised the handlers that such an aggressive species would still resort to flaming even once tolerance of their handlers had been achieved. Maleficent, as she had been dubbed - due to the horns on her head bending in a way reminiscent of that character's headdress, as well as her overall malignant personality - had lagged behind even the rest of her species that had been included in the training attempts. This was in large part due to the fact that she was a nesting mother, and in part due to the fact that she was one of the oldest dragons the handlers had attempted to work with, at just under century in age. As a result, she was slower to adjust and adapt than the younger dragons.

She'd relaxed a tiny bit once her eggs had hatched, but she was still very protective of her hatchlings - especially with the General in residence. She was, at her age, an experienced mother, and just to complicate matters, had been wild-caught as a younger dragon. The handlers didn't know it, but she'd had a clutch while wild, which had left a rather indelible mark on Maleficent's personality. Female dragons born on Preserves, or caught wild young enough to not have had a clutch yet were always much less paranoid about the health and safety of their clutches and hatchlings than their wild counterparts. Ironbellies almost never preyed on Preserve dragons due to the humans protecting them.

Her hatchlings had only begun to fly in the last month or so, and were still learning the fine art of flying. Maleficent flew with them, acting as airborne protection as well as showing them how it was done. One of her handlers went with her, now that she was to the point of permitting them to fly with her.

Said handler, aware of the part the General had played in getting Seren to start heeding command words in flight, was soon left to wonder if the General was pulling these stunts deliberately. Because the General showed up while Maleficent and her babies were airborne. The General was very clearly not hunting the hatchlings - wasn't even flying in their general direction. That hardly mattered to Maleficent, who wasn't about to tolerate the threat that the General represented.

Despite the fact the General was roughly twice Maleficent's size, Maleficent took off after the General like a bat out of hell, bellowing fit to raise the dead as her hatchlings fled to safety. The second she got in range, Maleficent started breathing fire in between enraged bellows, determined to chase the General off, despite the almost hilarious disparity in their sizes. It was rather like watching a terrier trying to intimidate a Mastiff. The General hardly seemed to notice Maleficent, merely speeding up a bit to avoid the brunt of the flames.

Then, one by one, the other nesting mothers in the Preserve began to respond to Maleficent's enraged bellowing. Because they were so much more placid than a Horntail in temperament, as well as both young and inexperienced enough to not realize how dangerous an Ironbelly could be, they all waited long enough to have a handler with them before they joined Maleficent in her pursuit.

A half an hour later, whether or not the General was doing this deliberately had become a moot question. Even an Ironbelly would have quit the area after a short period of being chased and flamed at by several nesting mothers. They were opportunists that went after the weak or unguarded, and this was definitely neither of those. Yet the General persisted in flying in close enough to the dragons' nests to provoke their protective responses.

By that point, all of the rideable dragons were airborne, with handlers on their backs. Many of them were the sons and daughters of the resident breeding females, so their responding to their mothers' distress was hardly surprising. Chasing the General off had become a team training exercise. And one by one, as even the most placid of the dragons started flaming in response to the threat, they were learning to flame on command.

Seren's team, rather understandably, made due note to get a hold of Harry as soon as possible, and see if he couldn't talk to the General again to see what the heck the General was up to and why.

Eventually, the General allowed himself to be pushed out of the Preserve, though several of the handlers remained airborne long enough to take note of where the General went. Which was not all that far - the General landed just outside the Preserve proper. Far enough away to keep the nesting mothers from freaking out, but close enough to ... well ... who knew what, but close enough to stick his nose back in things if he wanted to.

(_)(_)(_)

Hasisah was, in point of fact, poking at the dragons and their riders with purpose. While perhaps not truly sapient, Hasisah was as close as made no never mind. Close enough to comprehend the changes in behavior of the humans at the preserves in its territory, get very curious, and want to know more. Close enough to do what amounted to testing a hypothesis.

Working together for mutual gain was a completely unknown concept to Ironbellies. Hasisah was old enough to see that it at least seemed to have advantages for the dragons with whom the humans were working. The question was: were the humans in earnest? Would they change their minds back to their previous behavior as swiftly as they'd changed to the new behavior? More interestingly, was there any possibility of a benefit for her if she were to tolerate a human's presence? She was, after all, much larger, stronger, and smarter than the lesser dragons, and thus didn't *need* such assistance at all.

So Hasisah had settled at the Romanian Preserve to watch and, if possible, put the new circumstances to the test. Then the Speaker had come and explained, at least in part, what was going on, which had just made her more curious. Unlike the first time she'd run into a Speaker, back when she'd been little more than a hatchling, she'd had nothing to fear this time around. She'd actually been disappointed when the Speaker disappeared.

So she'd decided to actively start poking at the dragons and humans. Both to see if the humans were in earnest and to see if maybe she couldn't provoke them into bringing the Speaker back. The first time things had gone rather predictably. This time had at least started much the same, but then things had got interesting.

Nesting mothers working in concert to chase a her off were not a new thing to Hasisah. Nesting mothers generally had their nests close to each other. That said, when you were twenty or thirty feet long, with a territory that was measured in square kilometers, 'close' was a relative concept. Generally, nests tended to be just close enough to each other that one nesting mother would be aware of a problem at another mothers' nest.

That was, obviously, deliberate. With Ironbellies preying on clutches any chance they got, a nesting mother's first line of defense was knowing when an Ironbelly was in the neighborhood and in a mood to hunt. Having their nests close enough that they could hear the bellowing that would greet a hunting attempt at another nest was one of the ways wild female dragons protected their clutches. The more aggressive breeds, like Hungarian Horntails, went one further and were generally quick to go to the assistance of their neighbor if they heard a hunting attempt in progress at another nest, aware that their own nest might be next.

All that said, it was only ever the nesting mothers that went on the attack. Hatchlings from previous clutches, male dragons, and non-related, non-breeding females never got involved in such fights. So having literally every dragon the humans were working with go airborne and start chasing her around had startled Hasisah. It hadn't taken long for her to realize that they were coordinating their attacks in a way that the dragons alone just weren't capable of. No, that had human influence all over it.

It would also be a huge benefit to the lesser dragons. There was no possibility of a single dragon penetrating such a defense. At the same time, the fact the humans made no attempt to kill her opened up the possibility of some sort of ... something ... between herself and them that didn't include hostility.

Hasisah was aware, in a sort of vague way, that her time as queen of all she surveyed was coming to an end. She was nearly eight hundred years old at this point. While she remained strong and able to defend her territory, the day was coming when a young female Ironbelly would challenge her supremacy and win. Hasisah was loathe to be driven out of a territory she had ruled for nearly three hundred years. If there was a way for her to remain as ruler of her territory, she wasn't above taking it. If that meant working in concert with a human ... well. She'd think about it, at least. But she needed to be sure the humans were in earnest. She needed to talk to that Speaker again.

(_)(_)(_)

October 15, 1992 Voldemort's HQ

Losing Lucius and Narcissa had pissed Voldemort off. He'd very nearly fallen back into his old behaviors. Meaning Crucio-ing everyone in sight and generally throwing a temper tantrum any toddler would have envied.

Voldemort had come far enough in his contemplations of his previous attempt to conquer the Wizarding World to admit that he had, in fact, been throwing temper tantrums. Not that he'd admit it to anyone, of course. He had a certain image to maintain after all.

He had finally managed to confirm the whys and wherefores of his descent into madness, and his clear-headedness subsequent to his resurrection. He had eventually decided that there was a certain sort of rather horrible symmetry to the fact that his attempts to make himself immortal had driven him insane. He wondered why that particular side effect had not been widely published. Certainly, he would have avoided making a Horcrux at all, never mind multiple ones, if he'd known making even one would drive him barmy.

What had fascinated him was the discovery that the ritual had stabilized him. He'd found that out from a shockingly short, very little-known book he'd liberated from the Black Family library during his first go-round. It had been written sometime during or after the life of Herpo the Foul. Voldemort suspected that it might have been written by Herpo himself. While the full truth of Herpo's identity had been lost to time, there was every possibility he'd been born a Black, or married into that family. Or, well, its Greek precursor, as the Black name had not come into use until a branch of the family had moved to what would become the UK. It would explain why the book was apparently unknown outside the family.

Aside from being the first (known) magical to create a Horcrux, Herpo had also been the first (known) to come up with the resurrection ritual that Voldemort had used to re-embody himself. Herpo had been 'killed' a number of times before his Horcrux had been discovered and destroyed, so he'd found out a number of the drawbacks to that form of immortality, and come up with ways to negate or diminish them. It also answered, at least in part, as to why the knowledge had not been further disseminated. The Black Family tended to hoard its knowledge rather jealously. Understandably so, given their provenance as one of the First Families.

There was a reason he'd courted them, after all. Yes, that family was ruthless as hell, something that had appealed to him. Yes, they were dangerous to outsiders if you were stupid enough to attack one of their number. But they were also one of the First Families, with a pedigree that went back thousands of years that had been recorded. Hells, their family predated the invention of writing. They were also the only one of the First Families to have 'gone Dark' as a whole. Oh, members of the other First Families had fallen to the Dark. They couldn't have avoided it, in the early days. Back when magic was new, no one would have known the dangers of certain sorts of magic, after all. But the Blacks were the only ones who had, as a Family, turned to the Dark Arts. Their repository of knowledge therefore had to be vast, and far more than was currently known - or should Voldemort say 'allowed to be known'. Even if no magical government had ever suppressed knowledge of a Dark Art, it was inevitable that knowledge got lost with time and disuse.

Back during his first reign, Voldemort had largely dismissed Sirius Black. He had been Gryffindor to the core - a shocking development for a family that had only ever been Slytherin with the odd Ravenclaw thrown in for flavor. Voldemort presumed that Black would never stoop to using the Dark Arts.

He'd been right in that presumption, at least. What he'd either not realized, or been too insane at the time to figure out, was that not resorting to the Dark Arts did not make Sirius Black non-dangerous. His only comfort was the fact that he was clearly not the only one in the UK Wizarding World to have made such assumptions about the new Lord Black. From the reports he'd gotten from his spies in the Wizengamot, Black had thrown everyone for a loop.

Sirius might disdain the Dark Arts, and he might be a hot-headed Gryffindor, but he still had a full measure of his family's creative, vindictive protectiveness when it came to family. He'd utterly destroyed Dumbledore before Barty had kidnapped the Headmaster for use in the resurrection ritual without firing a single hex or even flexing his superior political muscles. Black had managed to get fully three quarters of the Wizengamot either in his alliance or unofficially on 'his' side, even if they hadn't officially declared themselves. Again, without flexing his political muscles or resorting to bribery or blackmail.

Not to mention what the man had been pulling off outside of the Wizengamot. Black's Alliance was a very considerable thorn in Voldemort's side. One he was actually enjoying testing his mettle against. Dumbledore had been all too easy to manage, the last time around. A little bit of acting and a few well-timed and phrased rumors, and Dumbledore had largely been contained. Black was far, far more difficult to predict than Dumbledore ever had been, and was not prone to Dumbledore's self-aggrandizing tendencies or overly optimistic worldview.

The involvement of the Muggles just made things that much more interesting. The raids last month had been an eye-opener that had necessitated a lot of adjustments. Voldemort knew he couldn't afford more raids like that one. He was going to have to use a lot more stealth in future. His people needed to either not be seen at all or they needed to blend in seamlessly. Since the former was far easier to accomplish than the latter, Voldemort had spent much of the last month training his people to carry out raids while disillusioned or otherwise made invisible. It wouldn't stop magicals, of course - not for long anyway. But it would be more than enough to stop Muggles. They could not, after all, shoot at what they could not see. 

He'd also been busy revamping his overall strategies as regarded raids, and gaining control of the Wizarding World. He was going to have his work cut out for him to conquer it this time around. Black wasn't going to make it easy for him the way Dumbledore had. Hell, Dumbledore hadn't liked his people killing Death Eaters even when it was the only way to save their own lives. Black had no such compunctions, as witnessed by the fact that Voldemort had lost over half a dozen Death Eaters in the big raid, and double that many werewolves and vampires. Even with recruits coming in from the rest of the Empire, Voldemort could neither permit nor support those kinds of losses in raids. Not only was the number of recruits ultimately finite, but being careless with his peoples' lives would incline them to leaving his cause or worse changing sides in the hopes of surviving longer.


	29. Goblins, Horcruxes, and Dragons

Goblins, Horcruxes, and Dragons

/Telepathy/  
[[Parseltongue]]

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

October 13/14 1992 Gringotts

When Ragnok ordered, goblins answered. Within minutes of his command for any goblin with training in dealing with the Black Arts to start checking the Death Eater vaults, the vault tunnels under and around Gringotts were seeing more activity than since they'd been excavated.

Each team that responded was comprised of members of one Clan, never two or more Clans mixed together. There was a reason for this.

Wizards knew that goblins had ... 'nonhuman' ... ideas about ownership. To whit, that anything one of their kind made was considered to be being rented by whoever purchased the item. Further, on the death of the purchaser, the item was to be returned to the maker or the maker's family, with a rare few exceptions where items had been willingly entailed to another family by the maker. Usually as a way to thank the recipient for deeds done either in the name of goblinkind (in the case of wizards) or the maker and/or a Clan member of the maker (in the case of fellow goblins and wizards).

What wizards didn't know, because most of them had not thought to ask - and the few who had thought to ask either weren't told or were sworn to silence - was that this attitude extended to every part of goblin life, not just items they made. Knowledge, skills, and even the lives of their descendants were considered, ultimately, the property of the eldest male and female pair of the Clan, with all others 'renting' those skills and knowledge - and indeed their very lives - from that pair. That pair, in turn, were ultimately renting their own lives, knowledge and skills from the Goblin King who, according to their beliefs, was a direct descendant of the first goblin, from whom all that they were had come.

As a result, no Goblin would even consider the idea of training to do something other than what their family did at the command of their Clan. A job which had been decreed for their family from the moment it had been established within the Clan. Every Clan was basically self-sufficient unto itself. Each clan had families who built buildings, tunneled, mined, created weapons, jewelry, and other items, farmed and tended livestock et cetera. This made it literally impossible to cripple the entire Goblin race, which had come in handy when they'd been more focused on war than on monetary conquest. A single Clan could be wiped out, but not the race as a whole.

Because of all this, rebels were insanely rare and generally driven out of goblin society for their heresy, if they weren't killed outright. The vast majority of the goblins that got driven out didn't survive long on their own. This was the reason, aside from wizard bigotry, that only one wizard family had goblin blood in their veins. Most other magical sapient beings had far more representation among wizardkind, if not in the UK proper, where mixed blood of that sort was all but unheard of, then somewhere in the world.

Gone was the stealth and care that had been being used to check the various vaults of known Death Eaters. And in this search, *all* vaults were searched. Even those listed under a name not the Death Eater's own. Because each Clan was an entity unto itself, only one Clan dealt with each Wizarding family. For the most part, Wizards were unaware of this. Because wizards were so ignorant of virtually everything to do with goblins, the purebloods who established private vaults under fictitious names (goblins didn't care what you called yourself as long as you were depositing gold and/or precious metals or gems) never realized that such vaults were put under the aegis of the Clan that dealt with their family.

Zartank and Griphook were of the same Clan, but from different families within the Clan. In the same wise, Blackroot and Crusher were from different families of the Clan that dealt with the LeStranges. Their Clan was one of the smaller and less influential Clans, as the LeStranges were a small and not all that influential Wizarding family. This was due to them having emigrated from the continent within the last couple hundred years, and the fact that there were now only two LeStranges by blood still living. Both of whom were in Azkaban for life. Worse, neither had any heirs. When the LeStranges died out, the Clan that had worked with them would be assigned to one of the muggleborn families establishing themselves in the Wizarding UK world.

It should surprise no one to discover that the Clan eagerly looked forward to the end of the LeStranges. While the LeStranges moldered in Azkaban, their vaults earned no gold. Unlike Sirius, they had been properly tried and convicted, which had resulted in the freezing of their accounts. Even now, with them having escaped, the accounts were still frozen. The LeStranges could show up in Gringotts if they were crazy enough - a distinct possibility with one of them - but the Goblins were required by the terms of their treaty with the Ministry to inform the Aurors instantly of their arrival. Showing up, though, would do them no good, as the LeStrange vaults had been re-keyed upon the LeStranges' conviction and incarceration, to prevent any possibility of them getting in the vaults and getting money they were no longer entitled to.

So Blackroot and Crusher had been very, very thorough in their search of the LeStrange vaults. Which had paid off. They'd found two Black Arts items in the main vault, which meant their Clan would be reassigned within a day. It would take about that long for the decision of which Clan got which Muggleborn family to be made, since Blackroot and Crusher were willing to bet theirs wasn't going to be the only Clan reassigned after the searches were complete.

Though to be completely fair, Blackroot and Crusher were of the opinion that the existing LeStranges hadn't known about the two Black Arts items they'd found. Both had been more than half-hidden in a far corner of the main LeStrange vault and covered in a thick layer of dust that indicated they hadn't been touched in a long time. Still, their Vault, their problem, even if they did inherit it from an ancestor.

They'd checked all of the vaults in the upper levels by midnight. They only have one more vault to check - the one that had been set up for Bellatrix LeStrange nee Black upon her marriage to Rodolphus.

And that's where they hit the ultimate paydirt. They'd all been told to confiscate all Black Arts items, but they'd also been told to keep an eye out for a very particular sort of Black Arts item. That there definitely was one in a vault somewhere, and finding it would be key to relieving their world of the current idiot with delusions of grandeur, and whichever Clan found the thing would be richly rewarded.

Their Clan's future was looking up. The second they'd opened the vault, they'd been assaulted by the aura of the damn thing. Blackroot had recognized it instantly from his training. Better still, Crusher, who was the one who took the LeStranges to and from their vaults, had a pretty good idea of when the thing had been brought down here, as he revealed while Blackroot went to work containing the thing and cleansing the vault of the taint it had left behind.

"The last time she visited this vault was back in '79. I'd have to look at my records for the exact date, but I remember that much. She'd only visited it a couple times before that, so I didn't think much of it when she didn't visit it again before they got thrown into Azkaban." Crusher told Blackroot.

"She'dve masked it somehow to bring it in. Her birth Clan would have known how to, if any did." Blackroot agreed. "And not wanted to risk us noticing something after that, so stopped coming here entirely. Which is probably why it was hid here in the first place, given she didn't come here much before that."

"Right. Let's get this to Ragnok and get it destroyed." Blackroot said. "Then celebrate our imminent reassignment to another wizard clan."

That got an amused, agreeing noise out of Crusher, and the two headed out of the tunnels.

(_)(_)(_)

October 17, 1992 Romania

Charlie had gotten so excited by the events of the thirteenth that he'd actually endured a floo call rather than write a letter to Sirius and co. Given that long-distance flooing of any variety was pretty close to the definition of hell on earth (long distance portkeys claimed the honor of being called hell on earth), this was saying something.

The end result of the call had been Sirius arranging for Harry to spend the upcoming weekend in Romania. Given the bomb he'd laid on Ragnok's lap earlier in the day, Sirius didn't feel right leaving the country until the horcrux situation was dealt with, so Remus would be getting to go to Romania with Harry.

When the horcrux got found so fast, Sirius didn't change the plans. Honestly, he wasn't sure he could deal with another of the near-heart attacks that Harry dealing with the General had given him. Let Remus have that fun this time. Besides, it'd be the perfect time to deal with the horcrux at Malfoy Manor. So it was that Hedwig, Harry, and Remus arrived just after dawn on Saturday.

"So ... I'm still not clear on the plan of how we find the General." Harry said once he'd caught his breath and gotten his legs back under him after they'd landed.

"Not a lot of places for a dragon that size to hide, even if they were the sort to hide." Remus said. "We'll probably spot him in short order."

"Yeah." Except the response didn't come from Harry, but a grinning Charlie as he left the building beside them and headed towards them. "The General's gonna be really, really easy to find. He's been staying more or less in plain sight since the other day. Everyone's going nuts with theories as to why."

"I can imagine." Remus said, sounding amused. "Then again, from everything you've been telling us over the last year, that's pretty much become the new normal."

Charlie laughed. "Pretty much." He agreed. "So anyway, the General has set up camp to the north - just outside the reserve proper. It's almost like he knows where the boundaries are."

"Do you have any wards up along the border?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, a couple. One to keep muggles from seeing the dragons if they wander into the area, and a few others." Charlie said, then blinked. "You think he can sense the wards somehow?"

"Wouldn't surprise me at this point." Remus admitted. "It's pretty clear at this point that about three fourths of what we thought we knew about dragons was wrong."

"Very true. All right, you two want to head out right away, or get something to eat first?"

"Probably should head out right away." Harry said. "Who knows how long it's going to take to talk to Hasisah. We don't quite speak the same dialect, so it takes a bit to understand each other."

"And things get lost in translation, requiring you to backtrack and get clarification." Charlie said with a nod. "Right, so, to the General we go. We scouted - very, very carefully, let me tell you - a spot we could apparate to close enough to where the General's hanging out to not have to walk all day to get to him."

Charlie side-alonged each of them, taking Remus first. "Right. General hangs out on an outcropping about an hour's walk ... " He pointed up. "That way, and a bit around a corner."

They hiked the last distance to where Hasisah was evidently camped out. The moment they came around the curve, Hasisah was rather hard to miss. He was lying on a barren outcrop of rock, stretched to full length in the autumn sun, his wings half-open and eyes half-closed. Harry couldn't help but snicker because Hasisah rather strongly resembled a sunbathing cat. Complete, somehow, with smug, sleepy expression, despite the fact dragon faces couldn't really do expressions. Or maybe Harry was just projecting. He'd seen Crookshanks sunbathing enough to know what sort of expression cats got.

Sleepy Hasisah might have been, but he still spotted them pretty much the instant they came around the curve, despite still being a good fifteen minute walk from the outcrop. Evidently draconic eyesight - or at least Hasisah's version thereof - was pretty dang good, because not only were they spotted, but Hasisah sat up, tail curving around where his wing joints braced his front end off the ground. Harry snickered again because the cat impression just wasn't fading. Just before they got to the outcropping, Hasisah sprawled back out on the ground, wings tucked against his sides. Since this put his head at ground level - and as close to eye level with a human as Hasisah was capable of getting - Harry had a feeling the move was deliberate.

[[Speaker]] Hasisah greeted the moment they got within easy speaking range. Harry was willing to swear he sounded *eager*, too.

[[Hasisah.]] Harry returned the greeting.

[[I ... you came.]] Hasisah said. [[Wanted to talk ... you.]]

Harry missed a word or two of both sentences, but from the tone, he guessed it was 'am glad' and 'to you' or something along those lines.

[[So you did get the other dragons upset on purpose!]] Harry said.

Hasisah, again, somehow managed to look incredibly smug without being able to make facial expressions. [[Yes]]

Harry laughed. [[Well, it worked. What did you want?]]

[[Talk to Speaker. Speaker say fight west on island. Speaker say treat dragons different ... ]]

At first, Harry thought Hasisah was just being pedantic, with the 'talk to speaker' bit. The more he said, though, Harry realized that wasn't it at all. Hasisah was, evidently, trying to understand what the heck was going on, and the admittedly very brief explanation he'd been given last time Harry'd been here had evidently just confused Hasisah.

"Better sit down, you two. This is going to take a while." Harry advised Remus and Charlie, then obeyed his own advice, settling on the ground.

[[Long story. Will try to tell]] Harry said, trying to keep it simple to minimize translation issues.

He spent the next few hours trying to explain ... well, most of the situation in the UK at the moment. Including *where* exactly the UK was. Fortunately, with a bit of creativity on Harry's part, things translated over to things Hasisah could understand fairly easily. That said, he still wasn't sure that Hasisah was clear on where the UK was. In both of their defense, translating distances and figuring out markers that were easily recognized from the air with a being that measured distances in time (as measured by the movement of the sun) flown at 'slow' and 'fast' speeds and who had vision that differed from a human's was *not* easy. 

Harry had a feeling they'd have to resort to escorting Hasisah there if Hasisah insisted on visiting, to make sure he got there. And that brought up all sorts of fun issues because finding a dragon that would be willing to fly escort with Hasisah would be a hell of a trick. Harry did *not* want to contemplate flying the distance involved on a broomstick, even if there was such a thing as one that could keep pace with a dragon Hasisah's size. Flying carpets, even if they were legal in the UK, would be utterly useless as they were uniformly slower than all but the most basic of brooms.

All that said, Harry (and Remus and Charlie) had gotten a *really* good laugh at Hasisah's opinion as to what ought to be done to Voldemort. Hasisah was bloodthirsty and surprisingly vindictive. And even offered to roast Voldemort for Harry, if Harry wanted.

Harry got a little curious as to why Hasisah was so ... willing, and nasty, and finally asked, as nicely as he could manage.

[[He Old. Sick. You young, strong. Is way of things, young replace old.]] Hasisah explained.

Which, Harry decided, explained a great deal about an Ironbelly's outlook on life as compared to even a Horntail, which, while aggressive, still worked cooperatively with its own kind more often than not. And segued the conversation into the dragon end of things quite nicely.

Halfway through a somewhat more detailed explanation (than the last time, anyway) of the whole 'being nice to dragons' explanation, Hasisah dropped a bit of a bomb. Harry'd been explaining how the reserve staff helped safeguard the female dragons' clutches, thus ensuring more of the babies made it to adulthood, when Hasisah asked a question.

[[Would protect my clutch?]]

Harry blinked, because for once he didn't think a word or two got dropped or confused in translation. And if that was so, it meant that Hasisah might actually be ... female. It took Harry a minute or two to figure out how to confirm that. And yup. Hasisah was a girl. It didn't really change much of anything, of course, but then again, it just might.

[[They would.]] He confirmed. He was pretty sure the dragon handlers would expire from glee at the chance to raise Ironbellies. By now, he'd gotten chapter and verse on how no one had ever managed to get hold of Ironbelly eggs. Not that Harry had blamed them. You had to be completely insane to risk the wrath of a nesting dragon of any breed, nevermind a sixty foot behemoth. And unlike with the other dragon species, while the occasional young Ironbelly had been caught, they had not *stayed* caught for long. They'd eventually escaped by one means or another. They were just too big and strong to keep contained against their wills, even when only half grown.

That it would be a chance to boost Ironbelly numbers would be a not inconsiderable bonus. Ironbellies were the rarest of all dragons, and given the differences in how Hasisah worked and how other dragons did, Harry had a feeling those differences, rather than active human interference, was the root cause of their rarity.

[[No clutch now.]] Hasisah said. [[Maybe next season. If males good enough.]]

Which had made Harry laugh. [[Only the best for you.]] He said. It got him another of those impossible smug looks.

[[Am best. No challenge in long time. Others too little, weak.]]

Challenge? Harry thought, and that started another chat about stuff, this time about Ironbellies in particular. Harry learned a *lot* in the next hour or so. Most of which Charlie didn't know, and which he said that dragon handlers in general didn't know. Some of it was suspected, thanks to centuries of observation from a *long* way off, but suspecting something was different than knowing it for sure.

It also explained why Hasisah was interested in her clutch being protected. He knew from Charlie that Hasisah was old. It was entirely possible that her next clutch would be her last, not because she was about to die of old age but because a young, strong female could challenge her for her territory and win at any time. With no territory, there'd be no more clutches. Hasisah wouldn't have the option of hanging out at one of the dragon reserves scattered around the world, because they were all in an Ironbelly's territory, and they would not tolerate Hasisah's presence.

By the time they'd done talking, the sun was setting. Harry got to his feet.

[[I will come back to talk more when I can]] He promised. [[Not until shortest day, at least]] He told her, identifying a specific time the best way he knew how. The shortest day of the year was close enough to Christmas break, which was the earliest he'd be able to get back for longer than half a day.

Hasisah didn't reply, but she also made no move to object to them leaving. Once they were back around the curve and out of her immediate line of sight, Harry heaved an enormous sigh.

"That ... was awesome and taxing at the same time." He said. "Talking to her is *hard*."

"You did a bang up job, Harry." Charlie said. "Just knowing she's a she is a breakthrough. I mean, we knew some of the big bastards that fly around had to be girls and some had to be boys, but we didn't know which were which since no one was insane enough to try getting close to sex one. Now all we have to do is correlate scar patterns and where each Ironbelly is seen, and we'll be able to ferret out the females, now that we know how their territories work." Then he grinned. "If she keeps her word and lets us have her next clutch, the gang are going to go into even bigger spasms than they have over getting to ride dragons at all."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I kind of figured that one out."

"We're going to need to take precautions, though." Charlie said. "If they're that violently territorial, the dragonets will probably have to be separated pretty early to keep them from hurting each other. And keeping them under the radar of the resident adult Ironbellies, wherever they end up being placed, is going to be a hell of a trick."

(_)(_)(_)

October 17, 1992 Malfoy Manor

Deciding how to deal with the horcux at Malfoy Manor hadn't been easy for Sirius. In the end, he'd opted to work with Lucius, but swear the man to secrecy on his life and magic. Sirius wasn't happy about spreading the word about the horcruxes but he was savvy enough to know that Lucius wouldn't take them into his home without knowing why - and lying was just a bad idea all over. While having Bill break the wards was a possibility, Sirius hadn't been willing to risk Bill on wards of unknown but very probably nasty origins and subtlety.

All that in mind, he stopped off at Grimmauld Place, where the Malfoys had been staying.

"Hello, cousin. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Narcissa asked.

It was a measure of how much things had changed between them that she wasn't referring to him as 'Lord Black', but owning up to the fact they were cousins. And that her greeting didn't have even a hint of sneer or ill humor in it.

"I've come to borrow your husband for a few hours." Sirius admitted, then glanced around. "He in the library?"

"Yes. Kreacher!" Narcissa called. Kreacher popped in. "Would you let Lucius know he has a visitor downstairs? And then bring some tea?"

"Yes Mistress." Kreacher croaked, then popped out.

"How's he been doing?" Sirius asked.

"Much better since you had the Goblins take a look at him." Narcissa said. "Did they tell you what was ailing him?"

"Yeah. Fortunately, they fixed it, and it's not a common malady." Sirius said. Which was the gospel truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth. 

A tea set popped into existence on a nearby table just moments ahead of Lucius' arrival.

"Sirius. All is well, I hope?" Lucius asked.

"Draco's doing well." Sirius said. He didn't want them to fret that this had to do with their son. Not after what Draco had already had to live through. "And everything else is as well as it can be given the circumstances."

They chatted about inconsequential things while tea was consumed. Only when the last teacup was set aside did Sirius get to the reason he was here.

"I have recently come into some information, that due to circumstances I will be forced to divulge to the two of you. This information is of the utmost importance, and cannot risk being disseminated. Because of that, and because if you ever fall into the hands of Voldemort, he'd take great pleasure in ripping everything out of your minds he possibly could, I am going to ask that you vow on your lives and magic to never speak of this information with anyone but myself or those I give you leave to discuss it with."

Lucius and Narcissa glanced at each other. There was no other outward sign, but Sirius knew that they were somehow communicating with each other. After a few moments, Lucius turned back to him and nodded. "Very well, we will take the vow."

It didn't take long to get that done. Once it was, Sirius took a deep breath.

"We discovered completely by accident how Voldemort managed to stay alive in '81. Minerva wanted to ensure the safety of the children, and since we've no idea what all Dumbledore might have done to the school, she had it searched top to bottom for anything malicious. Imagine her surprise when the search turned up a number of Dark Arts items ... and a Black Arts item."

Narcissa made an amused noise. "I'm surprised we didn't hear her cursing Dumbledore out from here." She said.

Sirius laughed. "The only reason she didn't is because we've no proof that any but the Black Arts item came into the school during his tenure. And we're pretty sure that he didn't know about the Black Arts item, as it was well hidden in a place that was not easy to access."

"And the Black Arts item had to do with Voldemort, hence making it obvious it was placed during Dumbledore's tenure as Headmaster." Lucius said. "What was it?"

"A Horcrux." Sirius said. There was no way to sugar coat that.

Both Narcissa and Lucius reeled backwards like they'd been slapped, nearly identical looks of horror on their faces.

"Dear Merlin. He ... " Lucius shuddered and swallowed convulsively before regaining his equilibrium. "No wonder you asked for that vow. This *cannot* get out. People would panic." Then he gave Sirius another look. "And if you're here telling us about this ... there was more than one."

"And you think one is in a place we have access to." Narcissa said with dawning horror.

"Not think. Know." Sirius said, his tone apologetic. "When we found out about this, we put Dobby on tracking detail, to find the damn things. He tracked one to Gringotts, and one of their vaults ... and another to Malfoy Manor. The horcrux hidden in a vault has been found - not one of yours."

"Which leaves the one in the Manor." Lucius said, sounding horrified and looking more than a little green around the gills. "Where we lived. With. Our. Son."

If the rage in Narcissa's eyes was anything to go by (and Sirius knew it was), Voldemort had put himself in very deep shit with that stunt, even if they were finding out about it so much after the fact. Sirius didn't envy Voldemort one little bit if Narcissa ever caught up with him. Especially if he still had a horcrux at the time. Narcissa would probably be *glad* the bastard couldn't die. But he'd wish he could before too long.

"Dobby could get through your wards, of course, but he didn't want to risk handling the damn thing. Compulsion charms were the least of the protections cast on and around the others."

"So it was either inform me and have me take you through the wards, or have someone break them down by force." Lucius rightfully concluded. "My thanks for not wrecking the manor's wards."

"You're welcome." Sirius said.

"Shall we, then? The sooner that foul excrescence is out of my home, the better."

"Yeah. I have an iron box to put whatever it is in to transport it safely. At least with yours we don't have to worry about Voldemort built traps around the thing. Just whatever is on the thing itself." Sirius said as he got to his feet.

"A small mercy." Lucius agreed.

They apparated out, appearing in front of the Manor, just outside the wards. Sirius deliberately turned his back and looked skyward to allow Lucius to deal with the wards without him watching over his shoulder.

They walked into the house and were greeted by the remaining elves.

"I have a task for you." Lucius told them. "It will be some time before the family can safely return here to stay. In the meantime, I want you to find and remove all Dark or Black items and curses. If something is beyond your capability, come to me and I will send someone to deal with the problem for you. Once all such items are out of the Manor, we will perform a cleansing so that no taint remains."

The elves all nodded eagerly. "We do, Master!" And then they scattered.

"Any idea where this thing might be?" Sirius asked, careful not to say what they were after. House elves might keep their family's secrets, but they could be forced to speak if you knew what you were doing.

"I kept most things of that nature in one spot that was heavily warded. I didn't want to risk Draco." Lucius said. "It's in the dining room."

He led the way to the dining room in question, and opened the trap door, then deactivated some of the wards - the ones designed to keep nosy people from noticing the room at all, or from getting in.

"I think I might even know what it is." Lucius admitted. "He gave something into my safekeeping in '79. It was the only thing he ever gave to me. Doesn't mean he didn't hide something unbeknownst to me, but it's the likeliest source."

They headed down into the room, which the elves had already entered to start dealing with things, since as Lucius had said, the bulk of the *known* Dark and Black arts items were down here. Lucius immediately moved to one of the racks and pulled his wand, levitating what looked like a small book off the topmost shelf.

Sirius hurriedly pulled out the metal box and opened it for Lucius to deposit the suspected horcrux in. Once it was in there, Sirius cast the spell to make sure it was what they were after.

"Yep, it's what we are looking for." Sirius said, then immediately closed and sealed the box. "That's ... three. Horrifying as it may sound, I have a bad feeling there's still more to find."

"Three is a powerful number." Lucius agreed. "But there are stronger. Arithmantically speaking, however, there cannot be more than seven pieces total. Further division would be prevented. There wouldn't be enough left of the starting piece to ensure survival."

"First split would be half, and it'd get worse from there." Sirius agreed. "Though I didn't know that it would be impossible to split past a certain point."

"Magic does have its limits." Lucius said as they made their way out, sounding amused. "Few though those limits are. This, thankfully, is one of them. Because the idea of having to find and destroy dozens or hundreds of these ... " He shuddered.

"Yeah. Not a comforting thought." Sirius agreed. "Not comforting at all."


	30. Distant Lands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the reason why I made a point of the British Empire being largely intact in the magical world is made VERY clear.
> 
> This chapter almost got titled Assholes and Angels.

Distant Lands

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

October 12, 1992 Soweto, South Africa

Nathaniel Rosier had been born on the wrong side of the sheets, as the saying went. That probably would have been the end of it under different circumstances. Nathaniel would have lived a life as a purported half-blood with a different last name to support the fiction that Evan Rosier had never begotten a child outside of marriage. He would hardly be the first, or last, child to live such an existence. Infidelity was not unique to the mundane world. Fortunately (and unfortunately) for Nathaniel, Evan's wife was barren, and Evan needed an heir. Nathaniel had been officially recognized as Evan's heir shortly after his birth and raised by Evan and his wife.

Nathaniel supposed he could have told Evan to take a hike once he'd been old enough to understand what was going on. By then, however, he had come to enjoy the life of privilege being a pureblood's heir afforded him despite the drawbacks. And there had been a number of drawbacks to deal with.

The first, and worst, was the fact that no one in the pureblood community had been fooled by Evan's claim that Nathaniel was his legitimate heir. Nathaniel had faced a lot of flak from a lot of people because of that, not the least of whom had been Madam Rosier herself, who had resented having another woman's son in her home. Nathaniel also had no idea of the identity of his birth mother. For all he knew, she had been a muggle bitch his father had accidentally knocked up during a raid carried out at Lord Voldemort's behest. Nathaniel was also intelligent enough to realize there were probably other bastard sons running about. That meant that if he displeased Evan, Evan could chuck him out in the street without a knut to his name and try again with another bastard son.

That latter threat had disappeared when Nathaniel had been seven and Evan killed during the last days of the first Voldemort War. Unfortunately, Nathaniel had still lived under Madam Rosier's iron fist until he turned fourteen and was able to claim the Head of Family title. She had ensured that Nathaniel lived up to his father's legacy. By the time he claimed the title, he firmly believed in pureblood superiority and the rightness of Lord Voldemort's cause. When his Lord had returned, he hadn't hesitated a moment to take the Mark, and had been more than happy to be entrusted with a not inconsiderable task.

The Magical British Empire was so vast and far flung that communication by owl was impractical in the extreme for most places and impossible for others due to the distances involved. It wasn't that the owls couldn't fly the distance, just that it would take entirely too long to accomplish even a one-way trip.

Likewise, communication via Floo was useless. Floo powder only worked to a certain distance. While that distance was not inconsiderable, it by no means reached halfway around the world. Even if it did reach that far, floo travel and communication was heavily monitored in the UK. Further, no one with even a shred of sense wanted to use a portkey that traveled more than three thousand miles, and most people refused to use one that went half that distance. Thus, word of Lord Voldemort's return was to be spread in person, necessitating an extended round-the-world trip for Voldemort's emissary.

While some might have viewed the task as being banished, Nathaniel realized that it was, in actuality, a vital task that he was undertaking. It was his job to ensure that sufficient recruits and supplies were funneled into Lord Voldemort's possession to ensure his victory.

Nathaniel had decided to do the trip as efficiently as was possible. Hence he had started in northern Africa and the magical communities there that still swore allegiance to the UK. He'd decided to start there because somewhere in Northern Africa would be the final port of call for the vast majority of the people and supplies heading into the UK proper. As such, they'd need advance warning and time to prepare for the influx. 

He'd spent a month in the area, speaking to individuals as opportunity presented itself before arranging a meeting between all the like minds he'd met with. He'd repeated the process twice in central Africa, where one minor and one major stopover for goods and people would be located. He was now at the end of his final month in Africa, about to preside over a meeting of like minds in the southern third of the continent.

His audience was comprised entirely of the younger sons of younger sons that had been banished to distant familial properties over the centuries. The actual age of the attendees varied from late twenties to past their centennials, but all were still younger sons of whatever Family. Deprived of any chance at making a name for themselves, they had all flocked to Voldemort's banner and his promises of prominence and influence. 

None of them were Marked. This was not because Voldemort had considered them less loyal but because he had needed a support network and recruit pool in place that no one could readily identify and destroy. He had decided, before he'd gone too insane, to leave most of his followers outside the UK unMarked because of that. That decision was paying dividends now.

Once the last of the attendees had arrived, Nathaniel stood. "As I have told each of you individually, I bring momentous news. Lord Voldemort has returned."

This got, not a raucous cheer (none of them were so uncouth as to do such a thing) but a lot of very pleased looks and open smiles.

"He has sent me as emissary to alert his loyal, to call upon the support those loyal pledged him, and to arrange for those who wish to do so to join him." Nathaniel told them.

This got as many happy reactions, and quite a few avowals of intention to travel to the UK post haste. "He does ask that some few remain behind, as this community will serve as a transport hub for everyone south of Tanzania, funneling personnel and materiel north to Kenya, which will send them on to Egypt and from thence to the UK. In the case of items which must be hand-transported, you will be sending them directly to Egypt by ship. You will also see personnel and materiel coming in from South America, and be responsible for funneling them all north." Nathaniel said.

Such a supply line was necessary. While some goods could be portkeyed halfway across the globe in one jump without suffering for it, others could not. People most assuredly could not. Even the things that could handle being portkeyed halfway around the world in one jump would be taking shorter hops, as there was a not inconsiderable risk that the arrival of such a long-range portkey would be noticed by the Ministry.

One of the oldest men in the group, well into his eighties at least, lifted his hand. "Much to my grief, I am ill-suited for battle. I will remain behind and attend to the supply lines, in order to allow those who are young and fit to join our Lord in his fight."

"A valid point." One of the other oldsters replied. "Let those of us too old to fight stay behind. In this way, we can serve our Lord without becoming a hindrance."

Nathaniel nodded, and the oldest of those present removed themselves to one side to begin planning how to deal with the influx of people that would need housing at least overnight and materiel that would need temporary storage for at least that long as well.

The younger men all quickly gathered together, making plans as to whose wives and children would be staying with who, what supplies to bring with them, and how soon they could depart. Nathaniel nudged them in the direction of the most-needed supplies - mostly potions as the Dark Lord's most able potion master had defected. While there were other potioneers amongst Voldemort's loyal in the UK, there were none that had even half of Snape's skill, nor had they the concentrated time at their disposal to brew as much as the war effort would require, so his had been a felt loss.

(_)(_)(_)

October 15, 1992 Alexandria, Egypt

As Soweto was serving as a hub for South Africa and South America, Alexandria had been chosen by the man in charge of organizing arriving and departing people and supplies. Alexandria was the last port of call for all personnel and materiel from everywhere except Canada (they would simply send everything and everyone straight to the UK by ship) before it all headed to the UK. The desert south of the city made for an excellent place to store things and house people undetected by any governmental agency, while the city's status as a major port allowed for shipment of materials that couldn't be portkeyed. It could even be done in comfort with sufficient application of certain runes to mitigate the heat.

Keeping track of the influx and ensuring it all got sent on in a timely manner was not yet the monumental task it would soon become, though they were already seeing some small amount of traffic. Presiding over this was Callum Flamel, a very, very, very distant cousin of Nicholas Flamel's. Callum's many-times ancestor had been banished to Egypt to care for family property in the country over a century before Nicholas was born.

Back then, the 'family property' had been a single small mine and the next best thing to a hut nearby. But Nicholas' apple hadn't fallen far at all from the familial tree when it came to ability and ambition, as his banished relative had turned the small mine into a lucrative concern, enough so to buy the rights to nearby land and mines, further increasing the local branch of the family's wealth.

Ubeknownst to the UK Flamels, the vast majority of that wealth, and the products of the mines, never made it to the UK as it ought. In a bid to get revenge for being banished from the UK, that long-gone relative had hidden his success from the rest of the family, maintaining the air, when anyone bothered to check, that he was barely scraping a living. After a generation or two, no one bothered to check anymore, and that branch of the Flamels were eventually forgotten about.

It was hardly an unusual tale, as most of those sent to far-flung familial properties were embarrassments to the family name in one way or another. Callum was only unusual in that he had such an extremely famous relative.

"Got another crate of potions supplies and four recruits." Callum's eldest son informed him. "Just in from Iraq."

Callum nodded. "The perishable supplies stored correctly?" He wanted to know. He didn't think they'd have been stored incorrectly, but it was best to make sure.

"Yeah, though I had to reapply the stasis charm on two of the potions. They were wearing thin. All these changes in environment stressed them more than expected."

"Best send those on yet tonight then. Not wise to use too many stasis charms on potions." Callum said. "The folks that came with them can rest overnight in the guest house before we send 'em on their way. Back-to-back portkeys are no one's idea of fun."

His son nodded. "We're going to be getting some stuff from Sudan in the morning. And Lord Rosier said he would be talking to the loyal in South Africa about now if all went well, so we can expect to receive word of incoming supplies and personnel from them via Kenya within a week or so."

Kenya was the main stopover in central Africa, with a second spot in Sudan for those people and goods that could not handle a full three-thousand mile portkey.

"Excellent. Has word reached India yet, do you know?" Callum asked.

"Not according to the newest arrivals." His son said. "Though they did say that word should get that far within the month. They're taking word personally rather than risk messages of any sort."

Callum nodded. "That's when we'll get our busiest, as South America should be sending things and people on by then as well. We're going to have to make sure we're ready."

"We've got a good dozen tents that can house as many as twenty people each." His son said. "And plenty of storage space for stuff that won't go to ruin in the heat. Temperature-controlled storage though, is more limited."

"And no real quick fix to be had." Callum sighed. 

Oh, they could carve and charge the runes required, but they had to keep their energy expenditure to a dull roar. They'd be creating portkeys almost daily when things got busiest, even if they went to the effort of creating portkeys that could be used more than once. The portkey creation spell was costly energy-wise, which was why most portkeys were one-way and single-use. The further the portkey was capable of going, the more energy was required. Making a permanent portkey - in other words one that could make a one or two-way trip an infinite number of times - involved not just the portkey spell but runes that had to be charged, doubling the total energy needed to create them. 

The specialized runes to keep a room at a constant temperature in the desert were also costly energy-wise. They had to deal with the wild swings in temperature that desert regions experienced over the course of a day. A ten-degree Celsius (twenty in Fahrenheit) difference between the temperature at noon and at midnight was average, and could frequently get worse than that. 

Most climate control efforts were actually spells. Spells designed to keep relatively tiny spaces cold despite any temperatures beyond that space.

The requirements for the storage spaces Callum would be using were quite different. For one, they would be a lot larger. For another, they would not just be keeping things close to or below freezing. They would be required to keep a temperature of roughly twenty-one degrees Celsius or seventy degrees Fahrenheit. In the desert, at night, that frequently meant heating the space up, not cooling it down.

That sort of environment control required runes. The problem was that while runes lasted longer than any spell, the energy cost to charge them was prohibitive. Because of that, and the fact that the Egyptian Flamels had not been in the shipping business, all such runes that had been employed had been used on living spaces. While Callum and his son had immediately begun the process of creating temperature-controlled storage, they could really only do one such storage space a week. Worse, that limit was under ideal conditions, which would cease to exist when they started having to make a lot of portkeys. Still, they were determined to get the job done, even if they had to conscript incoming recruits to charge runes.

(_)(_)(_)

October 15, 1992 Nairobe, Kenya

Kenya, with its exceedingly fertile zones and vast tracts of relatively flat (if also somewhat less fertile) savannah was home to much of the raw food products that ended up on the plates (and in the cups) of the UK's magical population. Better still, with so much land wild or the next best thing to it, it was an ideal place to hide the incoming supplies and people.

The farmland, despite the large amount of it, was under the control of only two families - long-banished members of the Goyle and Crabbe families. Unlike the Egyptian Flamels, the Kenyan Crabbes and Goyles had not troubled themselves to work personally. They had, instead, enslaved most of a local tribe of natives and forced them to do the work.

That decision had not been without its problems, as the remnants of the tribe and more than a few of their neighboring tribes had not hesitated to attempt to rescue their families and friends. There had been something of a small war for a time, until the Crabbes and Goyles managed to put their land (and the people who lived and worked there) under an elderly predecessor of the Fidelius charm. Eventually, all knowledge of the land and the people thus enslaved died out in the local native populace.

The slaves were treated little better than house elves would have been. The only difference between them was that the human slaves were not magically compelled to punish themselves for every perceived failing. This did not mean they didn't get punished, just that they weren't forced to punish themselves. Thanks to this ever-growing supply of slave labor, the land the Crabbes and Goyles lorded over was kept almost continually covered in crops of varying descriptions.

It was these people, and these lands, that were supplying almost all of the food Voldemort and his followers were eating. The Crabbes and Goyles were kept busy ensuring their slaves did not shirk in their work. Indeed, production quotas had been increased to meet the greater demand. The resultant lack of sleep, hunger due to not being permitted to eat, and resentment at increasingly vicious punishments was making things rather tense.

The slaves had, over the years, attempted to rebel and leave. Every attempt had met with failure. As none of the slaves were magical, they simply could not get past the magical means by which they were being kept contained and enslaved. It usually took a generation or two after such an attempt before they tried again. The Crabbes and Goyles mostly ignored such attempts, as they had the lot of them under the Vindico spell and could punish them from a distance if they got uppity. Every so often they did have to intervene, though, because the most common attempt at escape generally involved taking newborns to the edge of the property in hopes they could be gotten beyond whatever held everyone else in. So the Crabbes and Goyles took note of when a slave was showing signs of pregnancy and made sure the babe didn't escape being enslaved if the birth came around the time when another bout of rebellion was due.

What they never realized is that over the years, a handful of infants had in fact been gotten out and survived. Mostly because their mothers had them during a relatively quiet period in the rebellion-compliance cycle, and was somehow able to sneak the babe to the border without being noticed. Unfortunately, while that small handful of children had escaped their parents' fate, it had done the rest no good whatever. The slaves didn't even have the benefit of knowing they'd succeeded in getting anyone out and them staying alive, as they could not even see beyond the borders of the land that was their prison.

Though in recent years, the Crabbes and Goyles had a different problem on their hands. They had started with a very small group of slaves that had been forced to interbreed now for multiple generations. The birthrate had been the first thing to go, but now more and more deformed children were being born. The Crabbes and Goyles had been debating the wisdom of acquiring some new breeding stock, but while everyone else in the area had forgotten the minor war that had been a result of the initial enslavement, the Crabbes and Goyles hadn't. And just to make matters worse, there were a lot more natives in the area than there had been even a hundred years ago. The Crabbes and Goyles simply didn't have the numbers required to deal with the potential fallout of another mass enslavement attempt.

With those troubles in mind, the Crabbes and Goyles had set up a secondary site away from their farms for the people and materiel that would be coming their way. The fewer opportunities the slaves got to either escape or cause trouble, the better. They, like Callum, were nowhere near truly busy yet, as only the locals were doing any traveling yet. That would change soon enough.

(_)(_)(_)

October 17, 1992 Missouri, USA

Voldemort and his minions were not, of course, the only ones readying for war. The call had gone out to the far-flung arms of the Weasley family very early on. While most of the members of that family lacked somewhat in funds, they more than made up for that lack in other areas. Their sheer numbers being one of them. The other was the resultant range of skills the Weasley Family had amongst its numbers.

James Weasley was the unofficial head of the branch of Weasleys that had headed for America early in its colonization by the British Empire. Unlike most of Voldemort's minions, that long-dead Weasley hadn't gone there because he had been banished. Rather, he had gone because the colonies represented a huge opportunity. When the USA, both muggle and magical, declared their independence from the Empire, the Weasleys had chosen to stay. Unlike most of the magical colonists that had remained in the USA, the USA Weasleys had not excised themselves from their UK family, and retained ties to them.

It had ended up being the right decision. The USA had been a very wild place long after its declaration of independence, and had been rife with opportunities if you had enough courage. Courage, the Weasleys had in plenty. They soon made a name for themselves as reliable, fearless and incorruptible law enforcement agents of various stripes. They had also become where a large proportion of the 'younger sons' went because of the opportunities the USA represented, and the fact they'd have a support system to hand while they were getting their bearings.

James had not immediately sent his relatives to the UK. Part of the reason lay in the fact he wanted to send them with whatever supplies he could, which had taken some time to gather or make. The rest of the reason had been strictly due to everyone needing to organize things so that they *could* leave. Everyone under the age of eighteen was forbidden to go, even just to accompany their parents. James was wise enough to realize that the older teens would be extremely tempted to jump into the fight if they were in the UK, and he wasn't about to send untrained kids into that sort of mess if he could help it. That meant, however, that along with arranging leave from work, and setting their affairs in order against the possibility of dying in the fight ahead of them, everyone had to organize who was taking whose kids.

James himself was leaving his eldest son behind. His eldest was, like many of those born Weasleys, an Auror. He had pledged to sound the alarm in that community. While the magical USA was not the most fertile ground for Death Eater recruitment, they did still have those who subscribed to that sort of line of thought, and they would bear watching in the months (possibly years) ahead. Too, the magical USA government would want to keep an eye out for invasion attempts, should Voldemort decide such insanity was a good idea. He wouldn't get far at all - the USA had roughly five times the population of the UK, both in the mundane and magical communities. Which meant they had five times the number of wands to put against Voldemort, and a lot more willingness to use said wands to lethal effect than the average UK resident. The magical USA government also had a much better relationship with their mundane counterparts, and would not hesitate to coordinate efforts should the need arise.

Now, though, some fifty Weasleys (by birth and marriage) from the western half of the USA were finally ready to come to the aid of their Head of House. James Weasley's home was pretty much overrun with people as a result. The noise level as boisterous Weasleys and their spouses talked and laughed and had a good time (despite the reason they were all there) was enough to make most people cringe.

Most of those going were Aurors (the American magical government had kept the name despite declaring independence). There were also several BeastMasters - the American name for folks who specialized in the breeding and training of magical animals - and their 'pets'. One of them - the wife of one of the Weasleys - was a Native American parselmouth, and was bringing a number of snakes both mundane and magical, most of them extremely venomous. She also had a full-grown green anaconda and reticulated python in her collection, both well over twenty feet in length. Another was bringing a pack of Crups that had all been trained as guards. There was also an Enchanter - someone capable of making items with both spell and runic enhancements, and several potioneers. While the potioneers weren't up to Snape's level any more than their DE counterparts, they were still capable. 

The entire lot of them would be portkeying to Maine and the house of yet another Weasley in the morning, where another twenty or thirty Weasleys and their attendant supplies were gathering. Two days after that, the entire lot would be portkeying to Weasley Cottage.

(_)(_)(_)

October 17, 1992 Poland

The main line of the family that eventually took the name Potter might have died out (save Harry), but unbeknownst to him he did have relatives. They were just so distantly related they might as well not have been related at all was the problem. As a result, all knowledge of their existence had long since been lost - even before Godric had been born.

Leon Gorski was on the order of being an eighth cousin twice removed, or some such ridiculous level of 'relation' to Harry. He was so far removed from the main Potter line that he was not even included in the Family Tree, and did not touch the Potter family magic.

Despite that, his family had kept an ear out for news of the UK Potters, as knowledge of their tie, however loose, to that family had been passed down the generations. Distant relation they might be, but they took pride in being related to one of the First Families.

There'd been little to nothing they had been able to do when the Potters came under direct attack in the late seventies and early eighties. Everything had happened in such a short amount of time that by the time the rumors of the Potters being directly targeted had reached the Gorski family, Lily and James had been dead a month. But now ... well. Leon had been hearing whispers all over Europe and beyond for the last month or so that the Death Eaters were on the move again, and gathering their forces. Leon, being a merchant by trade, didn't have much in the way of fighting skills to offer his distant cousin, but being a merchant meant he did get to hear all sorts of gossip. Knowing what was going on outside of the UK, especially when it was going to end up impacting him, might be vital to Harry.

Leon had eventually decided to write Harry, informing him of what rumors he had overheard and offering to be Harry's ears in Europe. Aside from informing the lad of the rumors he'd been hearing, he'd also asked if the lad was in need of anything in particular. As a merchant, acquiring materiel was the best way he could help aside from paying attention to rumors.

He could only hope that the letter he'd just written would actually reach Harry. A letter from a complete stranger might just get thrown out unread, or if it got read, dismissed for any of a variety of reasons. He did have some hope it would reach someone at least, as the owl had actually taken off with the letter. That meant Harry didn't have a blanket 'no owls if I don't know you' ward on him. Given the lad's fame, the letters were probably going through an intermediary before they got to Harry, which would be where problems would crop up. He'd just keep his fingers crossed. If he didn't hear from someone in two weeks, well, he'd figure out what to do from there.

(_)(_)(_)

October 15, 1992 Brazil

Harry wasn't going to be the only one in for a surprise. Sirius would be too. While the Blacks had not been quite as prolific as the Weasleys, they had been one of the few to come close (at least of those based out of the UK).

Better, while the family had banished members to care for distant family properties as a form of punishment, they had also been liable to disowning anyone that didn't walk the family line. Given the Blacks' history of being deep in the Dark Arts, this meant the folks they'd disowned were generally neutral at worst and outright Light at best.

All of them had put as much distance as humanly possible, both in physical distance and other ways, between themselves and their erstwhile relations. The Mountbattens had been one of the extremely few to maintain any kind of relationship with the Blacks, and even then it had mostly been out of an effort to save the lives of the squibs the Blacks produced.

The Moutbattens had, however, kept track of the disowned folks as much as they could. Not all of them, to be sure. Some of the disowned had done a damn good job of disappearing into the ether, or had been disowned long enough before the Mountbattens had been established that they'd been unable to track them. But they'd kept track of enough of them.

Phillip, having been duly informed of the shite hitting the fan, had promptly written a letter home to his adoptive parents, asking them to sound out as many of those disowned ex-Blacks as they thought would hear them out.

Predictably, most of them had told the Mountbattens to get lost, or simply hadn't replied to the letters sent. They wanted nothing to do with the Blacks, even if, as was claimed, the new Head of House was Light. Most of those that refused to hear the Mountbattens out scoffed at the idea of a Light-side Head for that House. As the Black family had a several-millennia-long record of being deeply involved in the Dark Arts, not much of anyone would blame them for not believing a Light head of house was possible.

One family, led by Tiago Machado, now some ten or more generations removed from the original Black that had been disowned, had decided to take a look at the situation in person. If, as had been claimed, the new Head was Light, then ... well, they'd see at that point. Whether or not they'd help would depend as much on whether or not the new Black Head had a workable plan of action as it did on whether or not the man was of the Light. If the man was tilting at windmills, Tiago would just go home and pretend he'd never heard a thing about the situation. On the other hand, if the man had a plan that might work ... well then. Tiago would be more than happy to help wipe out a few (dozen or hundred or thousand) Dark-aligned assholes. And he had a large clan of extended family that would be only too happy to help, if that was indeed the case.

Tiago made such plans as needed to be made, leaving the leading of his family in the capable hands of his eldest son. If worst came to worst, his son was more than capable of taking Tiago's place as head of the family. Not that they, disowned as they had been, had an actual, official Head of Family in the UK definition of the phrase, but Tiago was as close as made no nevermind.


	31. Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely, deeply apologize for my long silence on this fic. The last year has been absolute, unmitigated hell IRL and finding the mental energy to write was nigh-on to impossible. Things have improved finally and I will hopefully be returning to posting chapters on this fic semi-regularly.

Meetings

(_)(_)(_)

October 19, 1992 Potter Castle

Remus' days started pretty darn early. He wasn't the only one, of course. Not with what they were dealing with. He, Sirius and Septimus Weasley had all been up before dawn pretty much every day since the multi-pronged DE attacks. As had become Remus' new normal since then, he had four pre-teen kids tagging along behind him. And not too much behind them was what Remus refused to acknowledge was a Pack. More to the point, his pack.

Unbeknownst to Remus, Sirius had a bet on with Septimus as to how long it would take Remus to realize – and accept – that he was, in fact, becoming an Alpha. Sirius, more familiar with Remus than Septimus was, could see the beginnings of the changes already. Remus wasn't much for eye contact, was exceedingly non-confrontational verbally and his body language was usually somewhere in the 'inoffensive and unremarkable' range unless he got truly, epically pissed off, at which point all and sundry got reminded that Remus was, in fact, a werewolf. Since the kids had latched onto him, Remus had started to exhibit more assertive verbal and body language at irregular intervals that were, slowly, increasing in number and duration.

In the normal course of events, Remus would never have become an Alpha. He was too quiet and laid back for that. But this wasn't the normal course of events. This particular batch of werewolves had all started life as Muggles and were, rather understandably given how they'd been turned, twitchy at best when it came to all things magical. Someone with a more dominant personality trying to lord it over them would have sent the lot of them either fleeing for the border or … well, doing something a lot more drastic and a lot more permanent. Remus was exactly what they needed in someone to teach them about their new world, how to handle the werewolf thing, and all that jazz.

At any rate, the first thing Remus did every day was sort the mail. This was … a rather more time-consuming task than one would expect.

The Potter house elves ensured that anything with malicious spells attached got put into their own pile. There were always two or three in that one. Howlers got defused before they went off and got put in their own pile. Again, there were usually one or two of those. The rest went into a third, and this Remus had to go over. The elves were good, but they had limits. Unless they had been specially trained, they couldn't detect any potion that wasn't a poison, and didn't know what to look for when it came to spells that weren't obviously malicious but that could, in combination with either a potion or something else, cause harm. So Remus had the job of making sure everything was either clean or fully defused.

Then he had to harvest any magical signatures attached to the howlers and any mail with nasty spellwork on them. Anything legally actionable would go to the DMLE (no one had been that stupid yet), and the rest went into a 'smite at the first opportunity' file.

If, on occasion, a Potter elf walked around with a smug, pleased, slightly wicked grin, no one asked why.

Once the spell-work was dealt with, Remus briefly scanned through everything. Hate-mail (which didn't always come in 'hexed or howler' form) got filed so they could keep track of who was ranting at who, and how often – and whether or not the ranting was escalating. That would, hopefully, let them see trouble coming before it got to a critical stage.

Betrothal offers, and there was at least one of those for both Sirius and Harry every week, got put in a pile for Sirius to reject. Remus never failed to find the betrothal offers funny – especially since a few folks kept trying with different offers despite having been rejected at least once. Business proposals and party invitations went into another pile for a more thorough going over prior to approval or denial. Creepy fan mail went into a third (and the magical signatures harvested, just in case), and the non-creepy fan mail went into a fourth.

While he was doing that, one of the adult werewolves saw to it the 'canned' responses to the fan mail (that only needed Harry's signature, and he signed a bunch of them whenever they got low) got sent out, and a note put into the growing files of people who'd sent fan mail. As much as it paid to keep track of one's enemies, it paid to keep track of potential allies.

Every so often, there would be a note or letter that had varying levels of anonymity. Some were so thoroughly sanitized that even a house elf would play hell tracking down the author. Others came right out and named themselves. Almost never from the same person twice, these notes and letters were from folks who heard or saw things they thought the Black/Potter Alliance needed to know about, for whatever reason. Every time something of that sort came in, it got investigated.

Sometimes it couldn't be confirmed, other times it turned out to not be true – though never because the informant was deliberately lying to them. The bad thing about gossip was sometimes it was dead wrong. Other times, though, the information was correct and, better yet, of value to the Alliance. Where possible, folks that provided that kind of information were rewarded. Unfortunately, that couldn't always be managed.

There'd been notes warning of suspicious movements in Africa and South America. Today's haul increased that to a warning of suspicious movements in Europe proper. Remus made a mental note to send someone to snoop around and see what was going on. If things were half as organized as the notes made it seem, Voldemort had left backup personnel outside of the UK, and they were gearing up to (or already were) form supply lines to Voldemort now. If so, the Alliance needed to nip that in the bud pronto. He also made a note to investigate Leon Gorski before accepting his offer of further assistance. He did, though, pen a thank-you note.

There was one last letter that had Remus doing a head-tilt as he studied it. The author, one Tiago Machado, might not be a pureblood by UK standards but he'd mastered the pureblood 'snobbery without blatantly being a snob' air, at least in its written form. Because the letter, while perfectly formal and polite, still managed to make it quite clear that Tiago was taking this whole 'fighting against the Dark' thing with about ten pounds of salt. Given his target was Sirius, the attitude was understandable to a point. The Blacks … had a reputation. One that Sirius was was as far removed from as humanly possible. What had Remus doing a head-tilt was the distinct impression that this Machado had some sort of personal grievance against the Black family … yet was coming to see what the deal was. And, if Remus was reading between the lines correctly, offer assistance in the unlikely event that Sirius was on the up-and-up.

Huh. THAT was going to be an interesting meeting. Remus made sure to clear a wide block of time on the day Tiago indicated. Then he had a quiet word with one of the new werewolves. They had no idea who Tiago was and no time to investigate him before he arrived. Remus wanted a bit of extra muscle in the room just in case.

October 21, 1992 Grimmauld Place

Grimmauld Place, since it had been designated as a neutral meeting site, had seen a lot of activity. The latest of which was of course the advent of the Malfoy family living there for a brief time. Sirius had finally sent Lucius and Narcissa to America, and a Potter house there two days prior. While not totally safe, they'd be a damn sight safer there than anywhere else. There were maybe five DE's or sympathizers in the entire dang country (ok, so Sirius was exaggerating, but it was still a very low number), and the US was a damn big place to hunt down two people. Not to mention that it probably wouldn't occur to Voldemort or any of his people that Lucius and Narcissa would flee there. 

If Sirius took a perverse pleasure in knowing that the Malfoys were now technically under the protection of the extended Weasley clan (due to so many of them being Aurors), he figured he was allowed.

Draco was staying, determined to attend Hogwarts. Sirius was beginning to wonder if the kid hadn't been mis-sorted. He'd certainly had the brashness and the tendency to act without thinking that were (unfortunate) Gryffindor traits prior to his having been hexed with the slave spell. Granted, that had throttled way back since then. Draco also had a marked lack of Slytherin traits save for ambition. Then again, having gotten a sharp and brutal lesson, Draco just might start showing more Slytherin tendencies. He had been moved into Potter Castle proper after his parents left for the US. Surprisingly, he was managing to get along with everyone. A bit stiffly and snobbishly, especially in the case of the Weasleys, but getting along.

The stage was set for the meeting with Tiago. Sirius was dressed in his Lord Black best and lounging behind what had been Arcturus Black's desk that Sirius had had moved into one of the parlors at Grimmauld that he'd refurbished as a large, opulent office for when he had to deal with people who either wouldn't take him seriously without such a backdrop, or who could be intimidated by such a backdrop. The room was full of rich, dark wood – paneling, bookshelves, and desk - ancient tomes on the bookshelves, expensive tapestries on the walls and cushy leather wingback chairs for visitors. The windows had heavy dark forest green brocade drapes with silver gray tie-backs. It was both a nod to the Black Family tendency to sort Slytherin, and a subtle warning to those that understood what being Slytherin truly meant. Sirius may have sorted Gryffindor, but he'd been taught at a Slytherin's knee. The pureblood supremacy beliefs might not have worn off on Sirius, but a lot of the rest had. That most people would expect Gryffindor colors and be thrown off their stride was also a factor in the choice.

Remus, dressed in his black Black Family retainer-marked robes, was going to play secretary and security. One of the new werewolves, a fellow named Todd, had volunteered to play 'servant' and backup security. Todd was the kind of short, skinny, and wiry that would have done well as a jockey. It also made him incredibly easy to overlook as a threat, which was the point of having him act as additional security if it became needed. Having a hulking, glowering bruiser as backup sort of made it a moot point. He was also in family retainer-marked robes, though of a charcoal gray rather than black.

Tiago arrived right on time, and Todd showed him in, bowing obsequiously. Sirius was hard put to keep a straight face, both because this had not been part of the general plan, and he could see the glint of mischief in Todd's eyes once Tiago's back was to him.

Tiago proved to be a man somewhere in wizarding middle age. A vigorous, physically fit and healthy middle age. Other than slightly deepened lines around the eyes that didn't quite cross the line into being crows feet, there was little to no physical indication he wasn't Sirius' age. Sirius, who still had the occasional problem thanks to his time in Azkaban (including looking a good bit older than he was), was a touch jealous. Tiago did, though, have an air of maturity and gravitas about him that most purebloods – including more than one Head of House, would give their eyeteeth for.

“Lord Black.” Tiago greeted him, his tone stiffly polite.

Sirius nodded “Mr. Machado. Welcome to Grimmauld Place.” He kept his voice as warmly polite as he could. No reason to act snobby, not yet anyway. He waved to Remus, who was parked in one of the wingback chairs, placed near the window for this meeting. He was ostensibly reading a book, but Sirius didn't think Tiago was fooled by that. “Remus Lupin, my majordomo. You've met Todd.”

Todd, for his part, had parked himself near the office door. An extra chair had been brought in for him to sit on.

Tiago, much to Sirius' amusement, eyed both men. Yeah, he wasn't buying the 'we're harmless' acts. Not at all.

“Please, be seated. Can I offer you anything?” Sirius continued.

“Thank you, but no.” Tiago said as he gamely took the offered seat. “I don't much stand on ceremony, Lord Black, nor believe in beating about the bush. I received a communique from a distant friend of my family's informing me of the situation to hand here in the UK, and asking for volunteers to assist. Since I got that letter from someone who is not directly involved, I'm assuming they knew, at most, the bare bones of things.”

“And before committing to help, you want to know exactly what's going on.” Sirius concluded.

“Precisely. I may not be a Lord, and we may not have our own family magic – yet – but I have a lot of people depending on me to do the right thing for our family.” Tiago said.

Sirius actually grinned. “I'd be rather worried about you if you did jump into this on just a letter's say-so.” He admitted. “The very, very short version is that we have a Dark Lord problem. He calls himself Lord Voldemort. He started making a bit of noise back in the fifties and sixties. Pureblood dogma at its worst. Basically, kill anyone who isn't a pureblood by the strictest UK definitions of the word.” Sirius made a face. “He really kicked into gear in the seventies. A lot of people died, or worse. Had the whole country scared shitless. Then he got his ass mostly kicked and disappeared.”

Sirius wasn't going to go into the exact whys and wherefores of that with a complete stranger.

“Then he showed back up about a year ago now and started making some noise again. Well, this time, he's going down for good, if I have to AK him myself.” Sirius fairly growled that.

Tiago thought that over for a few moments. “How'd he get so far last time?” He wanted to know.

“He knew his audience.” Sirius said. “The family Heads have all the power here, and the vast majority of them are purebloods of at least five generations, usually more. Most of them also at the very least don't understand muggles, and dislike them and their magical children sticking their noses into our world and trying to change everything without so much as a by-your-leave. Granted, not all muggle parents or muggleborns do that, but enough do that it tends to freak the purebloods out. Voldemort played on that, on everyone's worries about our world being exposed, that sort of thing. And once people started talking his talk, well … he had the folks who influence or outright make the laws and run our government in general in his back pocket. Made doing his thing … a lot easier. That we didn't have the most competent leadership to begin with really didn't help.”

“And things have changed since then?” Tiago asked.

“Yeah. For one thing, we're not listening to spineless, toadying politicians or doddering old men who like to play god with peoples' lives. For another, we've got a lot better bead on Voldemort and his people. We know who most of them are, even if we don't know where they're holed up. And he doesn't have as much high-level, well-placed help as he did back then anymore either. A lot of his people got thrown into Azkaban. While they're still alive and can still fight, they're useless in terms of getting valuable intelligence or manipulating things so the Ministry doesn't know there's a raid on, or what have you. Not without Merlin and all his apprentices knowing about it.” Sirius said.

“I think, Lord Black, we might be able to come to some sort of arrangement.” Tiago said after a few moments.

Sirius gave him a fangy grin. “Call me Sirius.”

October 24, 1992 Weasley Cottage

Harry did a quadruple take when he, Hedwig, Hissesh, Hermione, Crookshanks, Neville and the Hogwarts-age Weasleys arrived at Weasley Cottage. Having attended the family get-together at New Year's, Harry had figured he'd more or less seen the Weasley family in action. And to be fair, over a hundred people was quite the crowd.

But Harry had been wrong. So very, very wrong. Practically every square inch of the land the Cottage sat on was covered by wizarding tents. The narrow walkways between the tents were flooded with more redheads than Harry had ever seen in one place at one time – never mind them all being related to each other. And that didn't take the plethora of non-redheads into account.

To put it plainly, it was a madhouse. A mostly cheerful, somewhat organized but still chaotic and unbelievably noisy madhouse. Harry shot the Hogwarts-age Weasleys a wide-eyed, stunned look. At least now he knew why they hadn't flooed here, and had instead taken a portkey. There probably wasn't an unoccupied square inch to be had in the Cottage.

/Good gracious/ Hedwig sputtered, letting out an audible bark in startlement at the racket. Harry reached up to smooth her feathers without consciously deciding to do so.

“This isn't even all of them.” Fred said to that look. “Not even all of the American branch, even.”

“They left the school age kids behind, and the oldsters and other adults who couldn't fight or travel for whatever reason.” George added. “The branches that headed for Africa and Asia won't be here for another week. They're a bit more scattered, so it's taking them longer to organize themselves.”

Harry just shook his head, still rather stunned. On the one hand, the Weasleys pretty much made for an army in and of themselves, never mind anybody else. Which was good, because the way things seemed to be going, they were going to need every fighter they could beg or borrow. On the other hand, Harry wondered how in the name of all things magic the Weasley Heads had kept in touch – and fostered a good relationship - with this many people for long enough for this many to rally to the family banner without Arthur having to invoke family magic to get them here. If some of this lot could even still be compelled to obey via family magic. Harry had no idea how distantly you had to be related to the Head of House line to not fall under the family magic.

“And we're supposed to find one person in this lot?” Harry asked.

“Well given she's not a born Weasley, you'll have slightly better odds. There's fewer non-redheads.” Ginny piped up for the first time. Which got snickers and outright laughs from the group.

When Sirius and Harry had discovered that the Weasleys had an experienced, trained parselmouth among their numbers, they had both gotten rather excited. Even before the ability got given a bad name, there had been little call for parselmouths in the UK proper. Lethally venomous snakes, magical or not, were nonexistent in nature. The closest the UK got to lethally venomous snakes was the adder. And while adders did occasionally kill people, their venom was more likely to make you sincerely wish you hadn't been bitten. There were, of course, snake breeders that would have non-native venomous breeds of snake, but there was only one of those in the magical community. Given the UK's weather and temperature ranges, most escaped exotic snakes didn't survive long enough to become a problem.

Little wonder then, that the ability was surrounded by so much heresay, rumors, and misunderstandings in the UK. Other places were far more welcoming of parselmouths. Harry had discovered that in some places (namely those with a lot of lethally venomous snakes) parselmouths were outright venerated. They were at least deeply respected everywhere else. Which, in general, meant most countries had at least one well-trained parselmouth, and most had a lot more than that.

Meeting and working with someone who knew more about being a parselmouth and parselmagic than 'it exists' was understandably pretty high on Harry's list of things he wanted to do.

“That said.” Ginny continued. “I don't think snakes would be all too happy with this hubbub, so … maybe check the outer edge of tents first?”

“Unless Hissesh can pinpoint them, that works as well as anything else.” Harry agreed, then glanced down at the lidded basket Hissesh was in. 

The basket had been spelled to be a lot bigger inside than it was outside, featherlight, and had climate control spells on it, so that transporting Hissesh was not only easier, but even possible, given winter was threatening and he was a non-native species. The basket looked not totally unlike the baskets that Indian snake-charmers supposedly used. It was about the size of a book bag on the outside, and had both handles and a strap that would allow Harry to carry it hands-free. It was cool enough today that Harry had opted to use it for the first time since Sirius had gotten it for him. Hissesh was mostly ok at Hogwarts, as he rarely left the Gryffindor dorms, which were kept at comfortable temperatures, so they'd not yet had a need or opportunity to use the basket.

Harry crouched down and popped the lid off the basket. [[Hey, Hissesh. We need some help here. Think you can ferret out where we need to go? We're looking for a parselmouth. Sirius said that Septimus told him she brought a bunch of snakes with her.]]

Hissesh poked his nose out of the basket, and Harry swore he made a disgusted face. [[It is cold out here. But yes, I can smell them. That way.]] And Hissesh swung his head to the left.

[[Thanks, Hissesh.]] Harry said, then popped the lid back on.

It only took them about ten minutes to find what they were looking for. Or, more properly, for who they were looking for to find them. None of them, not even Hedwig, really noticed the woman's approach in the madness and mayhem around them until she was right in front of them.

“Ahh. Harry Potter. Septimus told me you'd come today. My name is Miranda.”

Miranda was a woman of medium height with dark brown hair and eyes. She also had an air of calm and serenity about her that was distinctly at odds with the chaos around them.

“I really appreciate you being willing to give me some advice.” Harry said. “I have no idea what I'm doing. Oh! This is Hedwig, my familiar, and these are Percy, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny, some of Arthur's kids. And this is Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom.”

“I had not been told anyone else was a parselmouth.” Miranda said.

“We're not.” Hermione said. “We came for, well, other stuff. I mean, there's so many people here, with so many skills, some of which aren't really available in the UK. We've kind of gotten used to moving in a group, so we just stuck with Harry until we could find you. Except you found us first.”

Miranda nodded. “Well, if you wish to stay, you may. You just won't be able to use any of what you learn.” 

They looked at each other and then nodded before saying their goodbyes and heading off. Hedwig, not interested in tempting fate by being in a roomful of snakes, went with them.

“Septimus said something about you having a snake?” Miranda said.

“Yeah, I've got him in the basket. He's not a native, so this weather does him no favors at all.” Harry said.

She nodded. “Let's head for my family's tent. We have a room for my snakes, temperature controlled and escape-proofed. A few of my snakes are rather more adventurous than is wise in a foreign environment.”

“Yeah, they'd get trampled to death out here, if nothing else. And no one would even mean to do it.” Harry agreed.

They made their way to the tent, and Harry got a brief introduction to Miranda's husband and their two kids (both under the age of ten) before Miranda led him to a back room. A back room that proved to have close to fifty snakes in it. Weirdly, all but the smallest were free-range. Harry figured the littlest ones were kept in tanks to keep them from getting accidentally squished by the bigger snakes. Especially the enormous anaconda that was taking up one whole corner of the room. And the reticulated python parked in the corner closest to the anaconda. The two of them made Hissesh, who was about fourteen feet long, look like a shrimp in comparison. Both were easily over sixteen feet long going by how many coils Harry could see, and the anaconda probably made two of Harry weight-wise.

Most of the snakes seemed to be chatting with each other. Enough so Harry couldn't really pick out any one conversation over another. Those conversations died out, though, when the two of them walked in. One of the smaller free-range snakes immediately made tracks for Miranda and slithered up her body until it was draped around the back of her neck, giving a hiss of contentment.

[[Ishisi, you're hopeless]] Miranda said, sounding fond. Then she turned to Harry. [[Ishisi is by far my most sociable snake. If I don't spend what she considers enough time with her, she'll come looking for company.]] Then, to the room at large. [[This is Harry. He is a Speaker. He has also brought a friend with him. I would ask you to be nice.]]

Harry blinked when every single head turned to him. [[Hello, everyone.]] He said. It was … a touch unnerving, being under so many stares at once. Even working with Shas wasn't this intimidating. Which probably said something about him that Harry wasn't going to think about too hard.

He bent and took the lid off the basket. [[This is Hissesh. Hissesh, this is … well, these are Miranda's friends. She's a Speaker like me.]]

Hissesh poked his nose out and then, after a moment, slithered out of the basket, then coiled up at Harry's feet so as to not inadvertently squash any of the other snakes in the room. The reticulated python perked up immediately.

[[You are quite handsome]]

That was as far as that conversation got before Harry forced his attention elsewhere. If there was going to be snakish flirting (or worse) going on, he did not want to know about it. And he especially didn't want to know the specifics.

“So.” Miranda said, switching to English with an effortless ease Harry envied. He usually had a devil of a time switching back to English. “How much do you know?”

[[Literally nothing.]] He admitted.

Miranda cocked her head slightly. “Do you even realize when you're Speaking?”

Harry huffed in irritation. [[No. I have to look at an actual snake or picture of one to start Speaking. And I have a hard time switching back to]] “English.” The last word finally came out in the right language. “It sounds like English to me, so … yeah. Unless someone pokes me, I generally don't realize I keep on using parseltongue.”

“Well, the good news is, you won't have any bad habits you need to be trained out of.” Miranda said. “Have you done any parselmagic?”

“Yeah. Just the once, though. It was … kind of an emergency thing.” Harry hesitated to explain the specifics, since he was pretty sure Severus wouldn't want his private business talked about with a stranger. “And stuff happened I didn't intend. Nothing bad, but … yeah.”

Miranda nodded. “Parsel magic is, by its very nature, wild magic, Harry. It takes a bit more concentration and willpower to bend it completely to your will. Imperfect control allows it to, for lack of a better description, slip sideways and do something you don't intend but that is, usually, in the general neighborhood of what you intended.”

Huh. That just might explain the whole 'protection spell' thing that had happened with Severus.

“Usually?” Harry asked.

“If you're really distracted or careless, parselmagic can do some severely screwy things.” Miranda said. “Moreso than normal magic. So. First, we get you to the point where you can reliably tell when you're speaking English and when you're Speaking. The trick to it is … both simple and difficult. Parselmouth being a magical language, if you're Speaking, there will be a hum of magic. The problem being that the hum is incredibly small and subtle. Fortunately, learning to control Speaking is a beginning stepping-stone exercise in the concentration and willpower you'll need to fully control parselmagic.”

They spent the next three or four hours alternating between talking – in both English and parseltongue – with meditation exercises that reminded Harry strongly of the stuff Severus had them doing in order to learn Occlumency. When he said as much, Miranda made a delighted noise.

“Ohh, excellent. You're learning that? The exercises for beginning Occlumency will really help you. They don't accomplish what you need for parselmagic in and of themselves, but a calm, quiet mind definitely helps with concentration. Not to mention that it gets you used to meditating at all.”

By the time they called a break for a late lunch, Harry was beginning to notice the 'hum' Miranda had been talking about. He couldn't, by any means, sense it every time, but even catching it one time out of ten was a step in the right direction. They took a break after lunch, and Harry got to know some of Miranda's snakes.

Ishisi had eventually slithered off, having finally gotten what she considered her allotted human time at some point while they'd been practicing. The reticulated python that had evidently taken a shine to Hissesh (who was curled up next to it) was a female named Sisas. The anaconda was a male named Hassa. Sisas, much to Harry's amusement, was the undisputed queen of the group. While she was nowhere near as heavy as Hassa, she was a couple feet longer and, more importantly, a lot less indolent in nature. Hassa came as close to being flat-out lazy as Harry figured a snake could get. Sisas, on the other hand, reminded him of Hermione. Inquisitive, more than a little bossy, and not slow to swat someone (verbally or physically) who was being an idiot or an asshole.

“It's probably a good thing we'll probably be gone our separate ways come spring.” Miranda said. “I would not put it past the two of them to at least try to breed.”

Harry made a face. “I was trying not to think about that.” He groaned. “Could they?”

“Yes, actually. Though the number of viable offspring would be a lot lower than a normal clutch, and it's not guaranteed for a clutch to even produce a viable animal. But it can be done.”


	32. Strike and Counter

Strike and Counter

(_)(_)(_)

October 26, 1992 Hogwarts

Change, Draco reflected, was by no means easy. Nor was it comfortable. Sometimes, it wasn't even wanted.

Yeah, that was personal experience talking right there. Draco still woke up shaking and on the verge of screaming from nightmares of 'what could have been' if Crouch had been more like Voldemort. Draco had absolutely no illusions about the potential for him to have died screaming. The nightmares about what had actually happened were only marginally less awful.

Learning to keep his head down and his mouth shut in the wake of being hexed had not been easy. He still spent a large part of his day reminding himself not to sneer and act superior. It was, slowly, getting easier. Ironically enough, at least privately admitting that muggleborns were, if anything, better than purebloods had been easy by comparison.

Look, he roomed with Crabbe and Goyle. It was kind of hard to claim purebloods were superior unless you were delusional or stubbornly blind when faced with that pair. Draco actually liked Goyle these days, so it was as a friend that he said Goyle was absolutely not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Not even Draco had thought of them as good examples of pureblood superiority prior to having gotten his wakeup call, though he'd not gone so far as to claim them inferior to muggleborns.

These days, he was willing to admit that the likes of Hermione Granger blew those two (and if he was being painfully honest, about half of Slytherin House) out of the water. Draco had actually talked to Hermione at one point over the summer, after his parents had gotten out from under Voldemort, and she'd explained that the probable source of the pureblood families' problems was what they took the most pride in – their bloodlines.

She'd kind of lost him after that, when she'd tried to explain what she meant. He was still kind of shaky on whether or not he understood. Still, her explanation sounded plausible. The more fanatical about bloodlines the family in question was, the fewer kids they had. Families like the Weasleys, who married more halfbloods and muggleborns than they did purebloods, certainly didn't have any problem with producing the next generation.

Still and all, uncomfortable times, adjusting his thinking. And not all that fun for the most part. At least these days, he had company. Because Severus had … yeah. Wow. Talk about hitting the House with every hex a guy knew. It had been entertaining as all hell to watch everyone else go through what he'd gone through in the change department. Though he'd been careful to keep his amusement off his face.

They had weekly talks with Salazar. Which that? Would never not be awesome. Salazar Slytherin, for Merlin's sake. Draco hadn't been alone in needing a few moments to calm down at the thought of learning even a scrap of what that man had known in life.

Of course, Salazar being … well, Salazar … every discussion was pretty much up to the eyeballs in subtle-but-pointed 'you have failed me and the House I built and this is how' comments, as well as whatever else he'd been on about.

Just to make it better, they'd also talked to Rowena Ravenclaw twice since the start of the year. She was, much to Draco's amusement, very nearly as sarcastic and pointed as Severus at his worst, for all she clearly adored knowledge in general and learning in particular. Helga, who had met with them just this last weekend, had been a whole lot less subtle than the other two about her opinions. She sort of reminded Draco of Molly Weasley.

They hadn't met with Godric yet, but that was probably a good thing. For all that strides had at least seemed to have been made among his Housemates, Draco wasn't quite sure they were ready to deal with Godric Gryffindor. The centuries-long rivalry was not going to lessen enough to keep them from heckling him in just two months.

The assigned dorm rooms thing had, of course, gone over like a lead balloon with certain folks. Draco had gotten more than a few laughs in the last month and a half watching the unsubtle war between the supporters, Severus, and the house elves.

There'd been any number of attempts to meet up. To comandeer the 'best' rooms as was 'their right'. Draco wasn't sure who exactly had done it, Hogwarts, Severus, or the elves, but the supporters were now unable to cross the threshhold of any dorm room they hadn't been assigned to. That had prompted meetings in classrooms, to the same result if the angry ranting was any indication. Hallway corners? They had a staff member breaking up their party in minutes. That one, at least, was all Hogwarts. Evidently she'd done a bit of reshuffling with her suits of armor, to ensure that every nook and cranny had a portrait, statue, or suit of armor watching it.

Then they'd resorted to meeting outside. Only to, again, have the staff descending on them in minutes. Which absolutely had to be the elves' doing. While Hogwarts had statues on her exterior, they were on the castle itself, not scattered about the grounds, which meant there were places she couldn't see on the grounds. Like the far side of the quidditch pitch, for instance.

In more serious news, it had come to drawn wands at least six times since the start of the year. The supporters' frustration levels were sky high and they were not inclined to tolerate much of anything from anyone. Most of them were spending a lot of time in detention because they were rattled enough to be … indiscreet … about where and when they said and did things, and got caught.

Needless to say, with all the tantrums and detentions and such, Slytherin House had yet to get and keep more than ten points for a whole week. Forget keeping said points for longer than that. They didn't have a chance of getting the House Cup, that was for sure. Draco would frankly be shocked if they made it to fifty points, never mind triple digits.

Slytherin House's troubles aside, Hogwarts had never been better. Mostly thanks to the Flamels. Because seriously. Flamels. Pretty much the entirety of Slytherin and Ravenclaw Houses had been salivating over those two, if for different reasons. Everyone, and Draco did mean everyone, was geeking out to greater or lesser degrees over studying under them.

Perenelle was, in some ways, McGonagall's polar opposite. She was fairly quiet, sweet, kind and quite frankly a blast as a teacher.

So long as you didn't muck about in class. At that point, she made McGonagall look like a puffskein in comparison. Not that there'd been much of anyone mucking about, but there was always going to be that one kid. In this case, a seventh year Ravenclaw who apparently had had certain parts of their brain excised at birth, because they had apparently had the utter gall to attempt to correct Perenelle during class.

Yeah. They weren't going to do that again. They had spent two weeks in detention – after they came back from a week long in-school suspension. There were rumors of punishments yet to come for the idiot. Draco was willing to believe them.

Nicholas, on the other hand, wasn't much of a change of pace from Severus. He was strict and demanding and, if anything, quicker to catch a student about to do something wrong than Severus was. Which was probably a good thing in a potions teacher. Not that they were making potions. They'd spent the last two months memorizing the reactions table and perfecting their stirring, cutting, flame control and crushing/grinding techniques. 

It wasn't as horrible as it sounded. While they weren't making potions, they were getting to make treats for themselves and their Housemates. Cooking had a much more limited repertoire of ways it could go bad than potions. At least with cooking, you couldn't really accidentally create a poisonous gas, or explode a cauldron, among other things it was possible to do if you mucked up a potion. A lot of the potions preparation techniques could be and were used in cooking. Cubing to specific sizes, dicing or chopping to varying thicknesses, grinding rough or fine, low or high heat cooking, etc.

To top all that off, Draco was – shock of shocks – making actual friends, rather than cultivating associates. It had started with Goyle, who hadn't seemed to know what to do with himself without Crabbe at his side. Millicent had scooted down to sit across from Draco at dinner on the first day, looking a little relieved to have someone associated with the Black/Potter Alliance she could talk to. Most of the rest of the second year Slytherins had joined them over the next week. Better still, the remaining hold outs (Crabbe and Zabini) spent a lot of time eyeing them with a distinct lack of hostility.

Better even than that, the war going on in Slytherin House had seen every last one of the neutrals and the very few Light-siders glomming on to Draco's group. His position in the House, being the one most closely related to Black (thereby, in pureblood circles, making him the one with rank enough to treat with Black), had made him the defacto leader of the group.

Best of all, both Nott and Greg were getting away from their families, and two other older students were as well. Draco was especially glad in Nott's case. Nott hadn't said anything, but Draco had seen Severus keeping a proprietary, protective eye on Nott, and that could only mean one thing.

The only real blight on the year had been Lockhart. Even then, he'd been more a laughingstock than anything else. And dealt with swiftly, which was a novelty, according to the older students, who'd lived through a few years worth of incompetents who had not been dealt with by Dumbledore.

November 15, 1992 Death Eater HQ

Voldemort had, on a certain level, disliked going quiet. The part of him still prone to rash behavior wanted nothing more than to act now. To do something big and dramatic that would force everyone to acknowledge his superiority and right to rule. Such thoughts had been the final proof, had he needed such, that while vastly improved thanks to Crouch's care with the ritual, Voldemort wasn't, and never would be, what he had been before he'd started making horcruxes.

The long stretch of no raids or other big gambits had been necessary, however. While most of his people had adapted to the change in tactics, some few had not. Voldemort had been tempted to eliminate them for even thinking of defying him, but had forced himself to stay his hand and settle for ensuring that handful of folks was never allowed to go on any raids, once those resumed.

That problem dealt with, he'd still had others. Voldemort had needed to integrate the first batch of recruits from abroad into his army. The first thing he'd done was make sure they were actually loyal to him. Scanning people with Legilimency as soon as they arrived had taken a good chunk of time out of his days. Then, it had been necessary to judge their level of competence in a duel, or if they were not a fighter, their competence in their field of expertise. That process took at least two days with each batch of recruits.

Once their levels of competence had been ascertained, the new recruits had to be settled with one of the teams. This process had taken the longest, as Voldemort had to balance each teams' fighting strength such that no one team was burdened with all or most of the folks who (relative to followers like Bellatrix) barely knew one end of a wand from the other. He also had to ensure that each team had a sufficient complement of healers, warders, ward breakers, and the like. He also had to make the occasional adjustment to deal with folks who simply could not get along to even a minimal degree, or whose fighting styles clashed with each other in such a way that it weakened the team rather than strengthening it.

Then, of course, just to make things interesting, Voldemort had been forced to slap down a few of his Marked followers for being stupid with the new recruits. Doing things like making the new recruits do all the dirty, menial jobs or bow and scrape to the Marked followers so that the recruits would 'learn their place'. Fortunately, his Marked followers had yet to lose their fear of him, so a flat glare and a mildly threatening sentence had cowed them. Better still, while there had been such idiots, for the most part his Marked followers were wise enough to not antagonize the incoming recruits.

It really didn't help the recruits' cases with the complainers that the recruits were … well, in a better place than the Marked ones. Azkaban left its marks on those rare few who survived to leave its environs. None of those that had been incarcerated would ever truly regain all they had lost in their time behind bars. On top of that, they'd spent years having to cope with Voldemort's (if only privately) acknowledged slide into madness. Which had resulted in a lot of very slavish behavior and in most cases a complete refusal to even consider something that Voldemort had not approved of. They for the most part did not deviate from his given orders even when doing so was warranted, either. It would never occur to any of them to question him.

Not that Voldemort would welcome questioning in the vast majority of cases, of course, but in the event he was about to make a monumental blunder, he would prefer it if someone pointed that out.

The un-Marked recruits, who for the most part hadn't even met him before, being the children or even grandchildren of those he'd recruited, were far less hesitant in Voldemort's presence. Nor did they exhibit the slavish behavior that Voldemort's capriciousness had encouraged in his Marked followers. Which, of course, his Marked followers interpreted as, at best, disrespect and at worst disloyalty.

Needless to say, there'd been a bit of friction that had taken a while to settle. But things had smoothed out. While there was a new batch of recruits to integrate at least once a week, they'd had sufficient time to integrate the first few batches.

The time had come to commit to another strike. Though Voldemort wasn't about to pull another strike like the last one. No, this time, he deliberately chose a series of small villages. Nothing with more than a thousand people.

Where the last raid had been done in broad daylight without having scouted their targets, this time the raids would be performed in the dead of night … and each of the villages had been under close observation for a week.

The group leaders remained the same, though all but Macnair's group had, by necessity, been altered almost beyond recognition. Given a bit more time, he planned to add a team or two, these ones led by un-Marked followers. There was a touch too much ill will still for such a leader to be successful in controlling Marked followers.

The plan was brutal, but simple. Surround the villages, put up anti-apparation wards to keep Black and his people out just in case they showed up … then burn the villages to the ground. The teams had strict instructions to wait until the villages were at their quietest, use no other wards than the anti-apparation ward, and take no more than five minutes to set the villages as thoroughly alight as they could before dismantling the ward and getting out of there.

The odds that everyone in the villages would die were low, but that wasn't the point. The point was to strike terror in peoples' hearts.

(_)(_)(_)

November 16, 1992 Potter Castle

Sirius honestly didn't know which was worse – the ominous silence when an enemy had the capability to attack and did not, or the results when they did.

He'd tried his best to cover every contingency. They had muggle backup, were guarding the muggleborns and training like mad. Unfortunately, with an entire country to cover, it was just plain impossible to think up every possible avenue of attack. Even if predicting everything was possible, they simply didn't have the manpower – even combining magical and muggle – to protect against every possible avenue of attack. It really, really didn't help that on top of having to cover everything in the UK, they were having to deal with stuff abroad, even if only to warn the other magical governments of the problem.

So it was inevitable that something would happen that couldn't be stopped. That didn't mean that Sirius wasn't pissed as all hell, feeling more than a touch guilty, and horrified at the number of casualties.

He had, however, put his foot down. Like with the raid that ended with newly-turned werewolves and vampires, there had been survivors of the attacks. As far as Sirius was concerned, the magical community had a responsibility to fix what it broke, as much as was possible.

Which in this case meant providing a lot of burn-healing potions and creams that would ensure they walked away without so much as a scar to show for it, and arranging for those who had lost their homes to come into a windfall that allowed them to obtain a new one. That the first half of this plan broke damn near every law they had did not concern Sirius a whit. Attacking muggles with magic was illegal too. In this particular case, two wrongs did, in fact, make a right. Or at least enough of one to soothe Sirius' conscience a bit.

If any of the victims asked questions about where the stuff was coming from, they'd be told it was a new medication that had only just been approved for use. The money for new homes and necessities (clothes, kitchenware, etc) would be a lot easier to keep from seeming odd or suspicious, at least in terms of a its magical origins.

What bugged Sirius was that Voldemort had clearly changed his game plan. In the latter days of the first war, Voldemort had been … well, batshit insane, but also predictable. He had always gone for the big target, the big play. Whatever would do the most damage. As horrific as the four-city raid had been, it had been textbook Voldemort.

This? Not so much. A bunch of tiny little villages, none of which had been home to a single muggleborn. Sleepy little places that almost no one knew existed, much less cared about. And all destroyed in a way that could be easily dismissed, if it hadn't been for there being four in one night. Fires, after all, happened all the time. The Death Eaters hadn't even bothered putting up the Mark, for Merlin's sake. The only reason they even knew it had been done by magicals was because the Ministry's sensor net had gone off due to magic in areas where there wasn't supposed to be any. The Obliviators had called in the DMLE once they were on site and realized they weren't dealing with a muggleborn's accidental magic. 

It was both exasperating and alarming. Predictable he may have been, but that hadn't by any means made Voldemort easy to deal with. The man had power to burn, absolutely no morals, and very little if any restraint. And while Sirius had seen very little evidence of it in those final years, everyone agreed that he had started out as Slytherin as they came. That Voldemort had at one point been clever, devious, capable and ambitious. Sirius was not at all fond of the idea of having to face off with someone who was all of that and not batshit insane. He also wanted to know how Voldemort had gone from batshit to … well, at least seeming to not be batshit, even if he still was.

Shit. There was nothing for it. Sirius was out of his depth here. And as much as he might not like the idea, they did have a Voldemort expert and exemplary Slytherin they could consult. At least he and Snape had managed to come to a detente. It wasn't going to be a fun conference, but it wouldn't devolve to wands drawn. Better still, Sirius had a few hours before he'd even be able to floo call the man, this being a Monday during the school year. Snape wouldn't likely be able to spare more than a few minutes to talk until the weekend, which gave them both time to get their game faces on.

Maybe someday the two of them would be able to peacefully coexist without having to metaphorically gird their loins and be extremely mindful of what came out of their mouths. That day, however, wasn't going to come any kind of soon. At least they'd gotten to a point where they didn't actively want to hex or verbally eviscerate each other. It was a vast improvement.

Sirius waited until after dinnertime at Hogwarts to attempt to floo Snape. While the man might have been in his office in the hour or so between the last class and dinner, it wasn't a sure thing. Sirius knew, via Harry, that as often as not, Snape just started grading at his classroom desk, rather than bother trying to relocate.

“Snape? You got a few minutes to spare?” Sirius asked once the call went through.

Snape eyed the papers he was grading, then the floo, then the papers again before sighing. “Unpleasant as your news is likely to be, it will perhaps be less execrable than some of these papers. I sometimes wonder about certain students.”

Sirius frowned. “And by that you mean … “

“There are a small number of students here who either are barely literate or can't be bothered to try on assignments.” Severus said. “The ones that try and still get it wrong are exasperating, but not execrable.”

That, Sirius understood. There'd been a few of those back when they'd been attending. Hell, Peter had verged on being one of them.

Severus got up and walked over to the floo. “So, what has you calling me?”

“Voldemort made another move finally. And we have a problem. Because he's going off his usual script. His people hit four dinky little villages last night, none home to muggleborns, none with a population of more than a thousand. According to Bones, the only magic done was anti-apparation wards and flame spells. All four villages were burned to the ground, but no torturing, and the villages were not Marked afterward.”

That had Severus' eyebrows heading for his hairline. “Indeed, that is off script.” He agreed. “And you are hoping I can give you some insights?”

“Yeah. I know giving me the lowdown over the floo isn't practical, but this will give you time to go over everything before the weekend.” Sirius said.

Severus nodded. “I shall do so, and if possible arrange to meet before the weekend. If he is going off script, we need to compensate quickly.”

(_)(_)(_)

November 18, 1992 Potter Castle

Severus did actually manage to clear his schedule for an evening before the weekend. This was thanks entirely to the fact that teaching DADA was less time consuming and draining than teaching Potions. Even during practical lessons, Severus was able to ensure that only a manageable number of students were waving their wands about at any one time, compared to having as many as thirty children actively making potions all at the same time.

Grading essays, written tests and practical tests also took less time than grading essays, written tests, and assessing and testing potions in order to assign grades. With DADA practical tests, either a child could perform the spell in question or they couldn't, making such things essentially pass/fail. Potions, on the other hand, came in varying levels of efficacy even when technically brewed correctly.

Severus was even willing to admit that since he'd had to learn DADA like everyone else, rather than it coming to him naturally the way potions had also made him a somewhat better teacher. Which made the classes easier, because the students were less resentful and inclined to rebellion. That there was a war and being able to defend their lives was something every student found of value meant that there were very few slackers and troublemakers, which again made teaching easier.

So Severus was generally a lot less tired and irritated in the evenings, and had a bit more time to do things he wanted to do other than things related to teaching. Being less tired, less irritated, and having more free time had markedly improved his mood. The last week or so, he'd verged on being sociable with his coworkers, which had startled them. Their startlement had amused Severus greatly.

Hells, it had even made dealing with Black easier because he was slightly less inclined towards picking a fight to blow off some of his tension.

He was greeted by Toker. 

“Master Black be in second floor office, Professor Snape. Master Lupin be coming as soon as meeting he be in be finished.”

“Thank you, Toker.” Severus said, and headed for the second floor and the office there.

When he got there, Black was just finishing signing the last of a pile of papers that nearly equaled the pile of essays Severus had to grade.

“I find myself quite curious as to what it is you're up to that takes so much parchment.” Severus admitted.

“Stuff for the attack survivors.” Sirius told him without looking up from what he was signing. “Both sets.” Once it was signed, dried, and added to the pile, Sirius glanced up. “So, since this isn't going to be a fun conversation … fire whiskey?”

“That would be … appreciated.” Severus admitted. “But also unwise. I do have to teach in the morning.”

Sirius made a face. “True. Ah well, we shall endure.”

Neither man mentioned the fact that getting drunk might just see them both reverting to old behaviors, which was a bad idea all over.

Sirius pulled out another ream of parchment and an extra bottle of ink and two extra quills, just in case. He didn't think there'd be that much note taking to do, but better safe than sorry.

Severus sighed, then began. “You must understand that much of what I will tell you was pieced together from random comments, some of them made years apart. Most of this I didn't put together until … after. There is no real way to know just how accurate the information is, as in many cases the original source of the information is now dead.”

“And right along with that, you can't be sure if you're guessing right, even with the information at hand.” Sirius said, nodding.

“Quite so. Now. One bit that has been repeatedly confirmed is that he was quite the orator. One half-blood I spoke to who'd hear Voldemort speak compared him to Hitler, and given everything else, I think it a rather apt comparison. Perhaps even a deliberate one.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sirius asked.

“It is within the realm of possibility, given Voldemort's age, that he was alive and old enough to have lived through the Grindlewald War. Hitler is known to have been working with Grindlewald in at least a limited capacity, and there are mentions of the man in several books written about those days. If Voldemort did any research at all in the Muggle world, he would have found out more about the man rather easily.”

Sirius nodded. “And if he liked the guy's style, he learned to imitate it.”

“Precisely.” Severus said. “Most interestingly, there were a few very hushed, very oblique hints from a few of Voldemort's oldest followers that he was, perhaps, not a pureblood.”

Sirius' eyes went wide, and he gave a low whistle. “Now if we can confirm that, we're going to shock some folks.”

Severus nodded. “And if he is, in fact, a halfblood or, Merlin forbid, a muggleborn, he could have heard Hitler speak in person.”

“Let's hope for 'not a muggleborn' because that would cause a rather ungodly mess.” Sirius said.

“Quite so. Now, as to his tactics, even in the early days, he, shall we say, ran to type. Big raids, grand plans, lots of, as the muggles say, shock-and-awe tactics. Anything that had a high likelihood of scaring the short hairs off not just its targets but everyone that heard about the incident.” Severus said. “That said, there is a definite, almost measured slide into crazier and crazier tactics and plans. I went back over the information I'd put together after the discovery that he'd made horcruxes, and I can guestimate roughly when he made at least two of them, just from the jumps in crazy. I'd noticed the pattern back when I'd first constructed the timeline, but hadn't had a reason for them other than random insanity.”

“That would be … interesting.” Sirius said. “Not all that useful against him, because it doesn't tell us what he made into a horcrux or where it is now, but still interesting. The question now is … why the heck has he dialed it back to something a bit more sane?”

“He must have performed some ritual or other to anchor his sanity.” Severus said. “It's the only viable explanation. There isn't a spell in existence that would dent what Voldemort had become in the last days of the war, and maybe two potions that would have, at best, a temporary effect.”

“How temporary?” Sirius wanted to know.

“Based on how unhinged he was, I'd say no more than a month before they became ineffective.” Severus said. “And that's if he took them exactly as required.”

“Which isn't guaranteed when the person taking the potion is batshit insane.” Sirius said with an understanding nod. Then Sirius had a thought. “Wait, could he have re-absorbed one or more of his horcruxes? Is that even possible?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Severus said. “Everything I have ever read says that once your soul is split, there is no making it whole again. That said, my knowledge, while expansive, is not complete.”

“I'll have to poke around in the Black library. If there's a way, my family would be the ones to find it.” Sirius said, making a horrific face. “Ok, so … based on that timeline, about where is he on the sanity scale?”

“Either at or very, very close to what he was when he first made his presence publically known in the early sixties.” Severus said. “Which, as you have doubtless surmised, is not good news for us. He was far more inclined to caution, and to changing his plans, back in those days.”

“Great. Just great. Mostly sane and very clever bastard to fight, rather than a batshit insane one.” Sirius said on a sigh. “On the one hand, the crazy would be easier to defeat, but a lot more likely to kill unnecesarily. On the other, a bit fewer deaths but … yeah. Fun times for us.”


	33. Christmas of 1992

Christmas of 1992

(_)(_)(_)

December 23, 1992 – December 24, 1993

Christmas.

It'd once been a day more miserable than most for Harry. Depending on their moods, he'd either been forced to be out and about so they could make pointed, frequently cruel comments and even more pointedly disinclude him from the festivities, or he'd been locked into the cupboard and forgotten all day. Even knowing they'd been hexed to be so nasty didn't help much with how much even the memory of it hurt. 

Now, though, well. Christmas was … well, what it should be for a nearly-a-teen, Harry supposed. It wasn't like he'd had a good example of what Christmas was supposed to be. He doubted how Dudley was treated was any more appropriate than how he was treated.

Last year's Christmas had been unbelievably fantastic, but also a little surreal for him. It'd been the first Christmas he'd been included in things, so he'd not quite known what to do or how to handle it sometimes. This year, the surreal edge had yet to appear. It was all just … fun. And family.

Ok, maybe he was a bit hasty with the whole 'no surreal edge' thing. Because his family? A bit on the odd side. And he loved every minute of it. In addition to Remus and Sirius, they'd been joined by the new werewolves, young and old. Everyone else had scattered. Draco had headed for America to spend Christmas with his parents. The twins were spending Christmas with their folks, and Severus (despite attempts to change his mind) had opted for a quiet Christmas with the rest of the Hogwarts staff rather than at Potter Castle.

The plan for today was to go shopping. Harry for sure needed to get a few things. He'd owl-ordered some stuff in the last few weeks just like he had the year before, but he'd not found something for everyone on his list yet. At least this time it had more to do with how many gifts he'd planned to get rather than simply not knowing what to get. Remus and Sirius both said they needed to get a few presents yet as well, and the slowly-gelling werewolf pack hadn't, as far as Harry knew, gone shopping at all. Christmas was two days away. So yeah. Shopping.

Which, for the record, Harry wasn't much looking forward to. It would be crowded and crazy. He could, if he was careful, do his shopping in disguise so he at least wouldn't have to worry about people targeting the boy-who-lived, whether for good or ill. The bad news was that going in disguise would mean not getting to use Sirius and Remus as physical shields from the masses. 

Harry could look like whatever he wanted to, but if he traveled with those two, everyone would know who the mystery kid tagging along with them really was. Harry decided that if anything happened this year or the crowds got too much, he'd have to remember to get them or Severus to make some polyjuice potion so he could make himself look like an adult. Then no one would twig to who was traveling with the two of them.

//You'll do fine, Harry-chick// Hedwig told him. //And I'll give anyone that gives you trouble what-for. So don't worry so much.//

Harry let out a slightly snorty laugh. “Hedwig, you descending from on high to claw someone's eyes out is definitely something to worry about, you goofy bird.”

//Well! I never!// Hedwig said. Her tone in no way matched the affronted words. //I protect you and this is the thanks I get? I see how it is. See if I bother next time, then!//

Harry collapsed into a laughing fit. Because for one thing, Hedwig's tone made it very clear she was merely teasing. Even when she was actually mocking him – mostly when she was outflying him without trying while he buzzed around on his broom – she was incapable of sounding mean. For another, he knew better than to think she could just stand by and let him be hurt, no matter how mad at him she might be.

He didn't stop snickering until Hedwig landed near his head and whapped him with a wing. Only then did he (somewhat reluctantly) sober up.

“Right. Right. So sorry. Forgot myself for a minute there.”

Ok, so maybe 'sobered up' was a bit of an exaggeration. Harry couldn't quite keep the impish grin off his face even as he ducked away from Hedwig's playful swatting and scurried to get his clothes. As he did he heard a few grumbles from a just-waking Hissesh.

[[Good morning, Hissesh]] Harry called as he headed for the door, snickering again when all he got was another sleepy grumble. Hissesh didn't hibernate, but he definitely slept a lot more in winter.

It didn't take him long to shower, and even less time to troop down to the first floor, tailed by Remus and the four kids that had latched onto him. Harry hadn't quite known how to feel about that at first. Some small part of him had wanted to whine about some brats stealing the family he'd only just found. The rest of him was kind of horrified by that part of him.

It was watching Remus that got Harry fully on board. Harry knew Remus adored him, and that he and Sirius were part of Remus' pack. But something about having the others around had pulled Remus out of his shy-and-quiet act. Which according to Sirius, Remus had been that way from the moment the two of them had met.

It had been Hedwig that had explained the change – at least well enough to suit Harry. She'd told him that when it had been Remus, Sirius, and Harry's parents, Remus had been (or felt like) a hanger-on. Apparently, he was the sort that needed to be needed in order to thrive. Or something. Whatever it was, Remus was a lot happier and more confident and outgoing these days.

With the addition of the pack, they'd had to resort to using one of the bigger dining rooms for meals. There were just too many folks for the smaller 'family' table. Meals were always an energetic affair, and this breakfast was no exception. True to their ages, the kids were all hyped up about Christmas, and eager to see Diagon Alley for the first time. The adults, while more reserved about the outing, seemed to be responding to the kids' high spirits. The result was a nearly non-stop babble of questions and a whole lot of bouncing in place and other physical expressions of excitement, and from the adults, increasing levels of amusement at the kids' antics. Sirius was nearly as bad as the kids, much to Harry's amusement.

Eventually they had everyone fed and dressed in robes fit for the weather and marked with either the Potter or Black crests to protect them. With so many folks who both hadn't been to Diagon before and might get jumped by Death Eaters or wanna be Death Eaters, or just plain treated badly, crests be damned, Sirius and Remus had roped in some extra help for today in the form of Minerva and Filius. Both of them arrived a few minutes before they headed out, and the group was split into three more manageable groups.

Or, well, they tried to anyway. The werewolf kids, much to pretty much everyone's open amusement and Remus' continued bemusement, refused to go with anyone but Remus. So they ended up with two groups, one with Remus, the kids and Minerva, the other with the other adult werewolves, Sirius, Filius, and Harry.

The one potential blight on this particular outing was Voldemort and his minions. Voldemort had been driving Sirius and even Severus up a wall with his sudden complete unpredictability. Sometimes there'd be raids every day for three or four days, sometimes he'd not have his people raid for three or four days running, and sometimes it got staggered, one night a raid, the next nothing. 

And when the Death Eaters did hit, it was always incredibly short raids in remote, low-population villages. The Death Eaters were never working any one raid for more than about five minutes. Six at the most. So fast that even if the DMLE found out about the raids the second they registered on the Ministry's magic detection net, the Death Eaters would be long gone before a team could gather and apparate or portkey to the site of the attack. The muggle defense teams didn't have a prayer of getting there until everything was long over. Voldemort himself was staying put and not making any appearances. Something he had evidently done a lot of in the first war, so yet another change from his expected behavior.

While the change was driving the adults batty, no one was willing to believe that Voldemort wouldn't revert to type and try to hit Diagon over the holidays. Changed tactics or not, Diagon was a juicy target. If Voldemort was trying to lull them into a false sense of security as regarded what he'd do, this would be the time to go back to his 'go big or go home' tendencies. Hence all the security for their group. Because it would be just their luck that Voldemort would have his people hit the Alley when Harry was there doing Christmas shopping.

When they arrived at the Alley, it was pretty clear the DMLE was thinking along the same sort of lines, because Aurors were out in force. Harry was willing to bet there were more than a few 'plain clothes' types wandering around as well as the blatantly obvious red-robe-wearing ones. Encouragingly, most folks seemed to be of a mind to not be jumpy and scared.

Harry was sort of sad to miss out on the kids' faces, experiencing the Alley for the first time, but the adults were nearly as good. Harry had a feeling seeing this sort of helped them. After all, they'd been introduced to the existence of magic in the worst possible way. Discovering there was a lighter, happier side to things had to be a bit of a relief. Barring that, it was confirmation that magic-kind were all barking mad. Because one of the adults has that sort of a look on their face.

//I worry about them.// Harry told Hedwig.

//There is reason to.// She admitted. //What has happened to them is enough to break a person, even the strongest. The children will eventually be all right. Children are adaptable, and there will come a time when the littlest ones barely remember being something other than a werewolf. The older ones will be able to adjust fairly easily comparatively speaking. But for adults … //

//It's a heck of a lot harder.// Harry said. //I just wish there was something we could do.//

//You're doing it, Harry-chick. Just by being yourself. It's all any of us can do. The rest is up to them.// Hedwig told him, preening his hair briefly to comfort him.

“Right. So. Shopping.” Harry said, eyeballing the mass of people. “I don't know about you guys, but I'm hiding behind Sirius. I'll get smushed if I don't.”

That got him a barking laugh from Sirius and slightly less loud sounds of amusement from pretty much everyone else. He gave everyone a mock-offended look. Hey, he was twelve and, compared to the adults running around, short. Getting smushed could happen.

Sirius did, though, lead the way into the Alley. Harry immediately and shamelessly slotted himself in directly behind his godfather. Diagon Alley might not be as bad as, say, London proper this time of year where crowds were concerned, but it was definitely bad enough to warrant the precaution.

Thankfully, despite Sirius, Remus, and the professors' paranoia, the trip to the Alley went off without a hitch. Todd, who seemed to be adapting to his new reality better than most of the adult werewolves, and if Harry was reading the situation right, bidding fair to become Remus' beta, seemed to have a ton of fun. He definitely asked the most questions about things he saw, and pulled a Hermione in Flourish and Blotts. That is, he bought what seemed like half the books in the store.

They had lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, then headed back out. Eventually, both groups reconvened at the Leaky Cauldron just as dusk fell. Harry wondered if everyone in his group looked as frazzled and tired as Remus and Minerva's group. Minerva and Filius said their farewells and flooed back to Hogwarts. The rest of them headed for the castle. They barely made it to the third floor before they all collapsed into whatever chair or couch they got to first. Even the kids.

“What. A. Nightmare.” Sirius groaned after a few minutes.

Remus let out an exhausted-sounding grunt and the kids giggled. Sleepily and a bit slow on the uptake, but they did giggle. Someone, and Harry couldn't tell who, let out a low whine.

Harry huffed. “There has got to be a better way to do this. I mean really.”

“Would be nice if there were, but most shops don't offer owl-order for all of their stock. Some stuff just doesn't react well to being shrunk or jostled about for an extended period. Even Flourish and Blotts has books they won't send owl-order.” Sirius said, sounding as tired as he looked. He waved a lazy hand in Harry's general direction. “And do not get shirty with me, Miss Feathers. Owls are wonderful, but flying is not perfectly smooth, even for the best of you.”

Hedwig made an outraged-sounding noise.

“Pah. Quit being logical. It's creepy.” Harry told him lightly. “Also, quit insulting my familiar.” 

He got a lazy hand-wave in lieu of any sort of verbal response.

(_)(_)(_)

The morning of the day before Christmas, everybody split up to their rooms to wrap presents. After all, they had bought stuff for the folks who lived in the Castle. Harry knew he didn't want anyone knowing what they'd gotten, and most of the others felt the same way apparently. Harry had even managed to get presents for everyone in his group when they weren't looking, though it'd been a bit tricky.

That done, they all spent most of the rest of the day hanging out in the enormous 'living room' of the third floor. Todd spent most of that time leaning against the wall in various places and talking to the portraits there. Harry and the other kids spent most of the day goofing around. They played various wizarding games, even hide and seek. 

Harry even managed to con everyone into going outside for a snowball fight after lunch. That had been a blast. They'd all come into the house looking like animated snowmen by the time they called it quits. That had necessitated huddling by the fire, warm fuzzy blankets, and mugs of hot cocoa to warm up and dry off. The kids (including Harry) had all had to be carried to bed because they'd fallen asleep.

Sometime after everyone went to bed, Harry woke up and came out to talk to his parents' portrait.

He talked to them at least briefly every day he was at the Castle. Whenever he got a chance, he told them what was going on from his point of view. He was pretty sure Sirius and Remus talked to them alone pretty frequently too, so they got the adult perspective on things. Certainly the three of them talked to James and Lily together as well.

Even a year or so later, Harry's opinion about the portrait hadn't changed. It was a relief to him that it existed. Yes, his parents were dead. He wasn't under any delusions where that was concerned. But they weren't precisely completely gone, either, and that was comforting.

Also? While he was glad on one level the opportunity had never arisen, Harry did still wish it had been possible to get his parents' portrait into Dumbledore's presence before the man was killed. That would have been epic. Harry was pretty sure his mom, at the very least, would have found a way to hex Dumbledore, her being a bit of paint and canvas be damned.

Sirius, Remus and Severus had all agreed with him when he'd mentioned the possibility one time. It remained one of the few times all three men had been instantly and unquestioningly in accord about something.

Harry had, over the last year and a bit, gotten the definite impression that Lily Potter nee Evans had been an unholy terror when she was on a tear. He'd never asked, but he sometimes wondered if she and Molly Weasley had ever met. If so, they'd either gotten along like a house on fire, or … well. Yeah. Kaboom. Either way, terrifyingly epic. Just in different ways.

//Definitely not a combination to make an enemy of, if they got along.// Hedwig agreed, having followed that thought as Harry made his way over to his parents' portrait.

//Yeah. It's kind of funny watching Sirius, Remus and Severus duck and cover when mom gets riled, and she's a painting. And while I've not seen it, I've heard the stories about Molly on the warpath. Them both? I'm thinking that's 'get out of the country while you still can' territory.// Harry told her.

Ah, heck. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

Coming to a stop in front of the painting, Harry cocked his head at his mom. “Did you and Molly Weasley ever meet?”

“Only in passing. She was quite a bit older than we were, and already a mother by the time we were active in the Order, so she didn't attend meetings. I'd see her in Diagon Alley from time to time but that was it. Why do you ask?” Lily asked.

“Because if Molly is half as fierce as the twins make her out to be.” James said, obviously having followed Harry's thought. “The two of you in the same place and pissed off at the same target would be something to behold.”

Harry laughed and pointed at his dad. “What he said.”

In the painting, Lily slapped at James, looking more amused than annoyed. “And what brought that line of thought on?”

“Oh, just a fleeting thought that I kind of wish you'd been able to give Dumbledore what for.” Harry told her.

“You and me both, son. You and me both.” Lily fairly growled, while James nodded agreement. “Though I suppose that if there is an afterlife, I may well be.”

“Point.” Harry said, despite the sad twinge the comment brought on. “And there'd be no getting away from it until you were done, either. So I'll just hope for that.”

If for no other reason than it meant that there was actually an afterlife, and when the time came, he'd get to be with his parents for real.

That was the sucky thing about the portraits. They helped, but they weren't the real deal. Sirius and Remus were beyond awesome and more often than not, Harry felt like he was their kid. But there were always days when he just … wished. Not many. Nowhere near as many as there'd been before Hogwarts. But he did still have them from time to time.

He spent the next hour or two talking to the portrait. Eventually though, he dragged himself off to bed.

Only to be woken what felt like five minutes later by the other kids. Initially he swatted and grumbled, but that just made them literally pounce him. Which, of course, started a tickling slash wrestling slash pillow fight. Complete with lots of shrieking and giggling. About five minutes into it, Padfoot bounced right into the middle of the melee, bouncing and barking and generally acting like a complete goofball.

Eventually, they wore out. Enough so that Sirius transformed back to himself, sprawled out spread-eagle on the bed in his pajamas and robe. He was accidentally-on-purpose pinning Harry and two of the other kids to the bed with his bulk. Harry poked him repeatedly with his one free hand.

“Off. Off off off. You're squishing me.” He said, making his voice as high, squeaky, and breathless as he could. Which really wasn't too hard. He really was being squished, if not as badly as he was making it sound, and a bit out of breath from all the play fighting.

“Can't. Dead.” Sirius moaned.

“No presents if you kill me.” Harry threatened.

Sirius all but catapulted off the bed. “Whaddaya know. It's a miracle! I'm alive again! C'mon everyone. Breakfast, then presents.”

Once everyone else tumbled out of the room, Harry shot Hedwig a mild glare.

“I thought you were supposed to protect me?” He asked, fighting a grin.

//There are some things, Harry-chick, that I just can't fight. A gaggle of kid bent on a tickle or pillow fight is one of them.//

“Yeah, yeah. Yank the other one. It has bells on.” Harry said, then grinned before he dove under his bed and pulled out a box loosely wrapped in paper. “Merry Christmas.” He said, and put it on the bed. Hissesh, who would probably murder him if he got woken up at this ungodly hour, would get his present later.

//Thank you, Harry.// Hedwig said, dropping down to the bed beside the box.

Harry left her to the fun of getting it open and headed into the living room after all the others.

This plan for the day met with universal agreement, and everyone piled out of Harry's bed and headed for the living room. The elves had set out trays of breakfast-y finger foods, mugs of strong tea for the adults and hot cocoa for the kids rather than make them all troop down to the first floor.

It didn't take long for the living room to look like a particularly colorful tornado hit it. There were bits of paper, ribbons, and bows everywhere. The elves were going to be thrilled. Making an extra big mess they had to clean up seemed like a dang weird sort of present, but Harry couldn't deny they got a kick out of having people to take care of, and that included cleaning.

(_)(_)(_)

If Christmas was on the loud and slightly chaotic side at Potter Castle, it was downright eardrum-bursting and insane at Weasley Cottage.

Not that anyone really minded too much. While the Weasleys in Europe and the northernmost part of Africa got together at least every other year, with somewhat smaller groupings getting together yearly, it had been a decade or more since some of the Americas branches had seen their European kin. There'd been a lot of catching up since the American Weasleys had arrived.

Most of the American Weasleys, knowing they'd be in the UK over Christmas had come armed with either already-made presents or the material they needed to make presents. While they were well enough off to afford to buy presents for their own families, none of the Weasleys had the money it'd take to buy even a single cheap trinket for every single Weasley currently in the UK. Making something small, however, was a lot more do-able.

Snowball wars took on an entirely new meaning with this lot, though. Arthur, as surprisingly willing Molly and their brood had teamed up with one of the American families, while one of the European gang had picked their own American family to play with, leaving a hodge-podge of individual kids, adults and, of all people, Septimus Weasley on the third team.

The twins hadn't quite seemed to know what to do with themselves, seeing their grandfather throwing himself into an epic snowball fight with all the verve and enthusiasm of someone their age. Ginny, on the other hand, had known exactly what to do.

Target Grandpa. It wasn't like they'd get many opportunities like this, after all. The twins, once they got over their shock, quickly took up Ginny's banner.

As at Potter Castle, by dusk everyone was soaking wet and covered in enough snow to be mistaken for animated snowmen. Those that hadn't taken part took pity on those who had and provided blankets and mugs of something hot, whether cocoa or something else, so the participants could warm up.

Getting the presents distributed come Christmas morning was definitely an exercise in controlled chaos. None of the Weasley clan had house elves, so they had to distribute presents the hard way. Fortunately, someone had realized that well before hand, and each tent had a basket just outside the flaps for people to deposit presents in, with a list of who lived in that tent. There were enough people on the property at this point that memorizing who was living in which tent, while possible, was quite the undertaking.

There were actually several such baskets at the door of the Cottage proper. One for Septimus and Cedrella, one for James Weasley and his family, who as the unofficial American head of Family Weasley had a touch more rank than the rest, one for Arthur and company, and one for the unofficial head of the African branch of the Weasleys, who like James, had a touch more rank than the rest. 

Well sort of. It wasn't like they lorded it over everyone else – just that they were considered the better go-to for most problems among the families closest to them. Unless the situation was both dire and not an immediate short-lived emergency, applying to Septimus for assistance was next to useless thanks to the distances involved.

Molly, of course, was having the time of her life with so many people around. The months between Ginny going off to Hogwarts and the mass arrival of their relatives had been more than enough for Molly to be quite sure she loathed not having a full, busy house.

Bill and Charlie, well aware of their mother's tendencies, had both quietly thanked the arrival of the rest of the clan. It had spared them both from more-ardent-than-usual exhortations to find a nice girl and settle down. Something neither of them was ready for just yet. Bill knew he'd have to, eventually. The continuation of the Head of House line required it. But he also knew he had a while yet, and to be honest, he hadn't really met anyone he thought he'd be able to tolerate long term, never mind love.

(_)(_)(_)

Hogwarts was, despite having only a few children still in her halls, quite lively. Moreso than at any point in the last few years. Certainly, the Christmas Day get-together of Minerva, Filius, and Severus had a much more light-hearted tone than the first year's had been.

But then, this year, while there was definitely a lot of trouble outside of Hogwarts' walls, they at least didn't have to deal with any within. With Dumbledore gone, drama other than the normal student-generated nonsense had been nonexistent.

They'd even managed to avoid having to expel anyone. The most worrisome of the students – those few in Slytherin that remained loyal to Voldemort and his cause – had eventually wised up and stopped bucking the rules. None of them were stupid enough to think those students had given up entirely, not yet. But they'd stopped causing ruckuses left right and center, and that was a relief.

For his own part, Severus found himself … immeasurably happier than in years past. No having to keep a front up with the students so that he could remain a spy when the time came. Markedly less stress as DADA instructor than as the Potions instructor. Two brilliant, if somewhat insane, apprentices who eagerly absorbed everything he had to impart to them, and on more than one occasion had caused him to stop and think a moment with their questions. Even an apology from and detente with Black and Lupin. Severus hadn't quite gotten to the point of smiling, much less acting happy, but he certainly felt it.

He had his own gift from the twins this year, so he joined Minerva in her (justly) paranoid prodding. They shared a more than slightly amused commiserating look with each other as they did so. Certainly, while he didn't miss spying, all of Severus' skills that had made him such a good spy would remain sharp trying to keep ahead of that pair. They were unholy menaces, and while they had curtailed their excesses, there was no stopping them entirely.

Honestly, Severus wouldn't even try if it were possible. As maddening as the twins were as students, those same skills would stand them in good stead as adults. They had intelligence to burn, were adaptable and willing to question everything.

“The Flamels seem to be enjoying themselves.” Severus said at length.

“Very much. If I had to hazard a guess, I think the isolation was beginning to get to them a bit.” Filius said. “Though I've repeatedly had to have sharp words with a few of my Ravens. Wanting to learn from such august personages as the Flamels is one thing. Harassing them to within an inch of their lives to tell all they know is something else entirely.”

Severus barked a rare laugh. “You're not the only one who's had to sit on students. My snakes are a bit less blatant about it, but the majority of them would happily slit each other's throats if it meant getting an hour of the Flamels' attention all to themselves.”

“Even I've had to do some stern talking to. Miss Granger has been all but foaming at the mouth.” Minerva said with no small amount of amusement. “Though I will say it has sparked a nearly unprecedented attention and effort on their existing schoolwork for everyone, even those too shy or what have you to think of approaching the Flamels out of class. No one wants to be seen as lacking by either of them.”

“We should have done something of the like a long time ago.” Filius said, sounding deeply amused. “Because you're right. It's had a salutary effect on even my Ravens' grades. Not that any of them have been struggling.”

Being a Ravenclaw did not mean one would get top grades. It just meant you had a love of learning – not that it came ridiculously easily to you. So being Ravenclaw and being solidly in the middle of the pack grade wise was entirely possible and even fairly normal. Though Ravenclaw did have a higher percentage of top-grade-earning students than the other Houses. That said, children who struggled to learn did not end up in Ravenclaw. Struggling with learning did not engender a love of learning. Of course, in a House where O's were more frequently seen than was normal in the other Houses, struggling to learn tended to take on a whole new meaning.

“Well, should-haves do little good.” Minerva said. “We've got them now, and I intend to do all I can to tempt them to stay for more than this year. With a bit of luck they'll stay on for a while.” She glanced over at Severus. “How have the twins been doing?” She asked.

“They're bidding fair to outpace my own record.” Severus admitted. “Of course, they have a slight advantage in that they can feed ideas off each other, and work in tandem like they're one person. Which is an invaluable skill when you require an assistant brewer for whatever reason.” Certainly he'd never been able to tolerate someone else in his workspace while brewing. Not even Lily, back in their early Hogwarts days, before everything had gone wrong.

“That is good to hear. So. Out of morbid curiosity … what did they get you?” Minerva lifted a potions vial with a rainbow-colored liquid in it the like of which she'd never seen before, showing him what she'd gotten.

“I got the same.” Severus said, lifting his own vial. “Did yours come with an explanation?”

Minerva shook her head. “I'm almost afraid to find out what it is and what it does.”

Severus eyed his own vial like it was a pissed-off basilisk. “I find myself in agreement.”


	34. Consulting The Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Item the first: Sirius makes some assumptions about the Gaunt Ring that are incorrect in this chapter. That is deliberate.
> 
> Item the second: Can anyone spot the *really important* bit of information that completely slips Sirius' mind in this chapter?

Consulting The Queen

(_)(_)(_)

January 10, 1993 Hogwarts

It wasn't until after everyone returned to Hogwarts that the Potter/Black/Weasley Alliance caught a break. A break they got thanks entirely to Harry's regular weekend visits with Hagrid. Harry had made a point, first year, of visiting Hagrid frequently, and had continued it this year. He couldn't always make it every weekend, but he made sure he made it at least once a month. Most visits, he brought one or more of his friends. Even Draco, who was not precisely a friend but wasn't an enemy either these days, had gone for a visit.

These visits were always accompanied – whatever else they might be doing – with rambling conversation. Usually about some magical creature or other. Hagrid didn't talk much about anything else. Harry, who hadn't had the best time prior to Hogwarts, had his suspicions as to why. Whether or not Harry was right, he didn't push.

That said … Hagrid did occasionally mention things about his past. So it was entirely possible that Harry had heard mentions of Hagrid's school days before today. Heck, it was entirely possible Hagrid had mentioned (if very offhandedly) the incident that resulted in him being expelled, and Harry just … didn't put two and two together. He was, after all, just a kid. And life had been more than a little crazy since the day he'd stepped into the Wizarding World.

“Wait … you got expelled for having a weird pet?” Harry asked, when Hagrid mentioned the incident.

“Nah. Not that. They thought Aragog were responsible fer the attacks that were happenin' at the time. But he never.” Hagrid said.

Harry blinked at Hagrid. “Ok, that makes … no sense whatever. I mean, yeah, you like the big and scary creatures, but you'd never set a lethal one loose where it could hurt people. I mean, even Fluffy and Norbert are kept away from everyone in the forest. And they both obey you without a qualm.”

Hagrid smiled at him.

Hermione and Neville, who had both accompanied Harry and Hedwig on this trip, nodded their own agreement.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Hermione wanted to know.

“There were a lot of nonsense goin' on that year.” Hagrid said. “Firs' time Hogwarts weren't safe. People getting' petrified near every week. Then one girl got kilt. I'd brung Aragog ta Hogwarts start of the year as me pet. Kep' him in a box, y'see? Kep' the box in a 'bandoned classroom, so Aragog didn't bother nobody.”

“What was Aragog?” Hermione asked.

“He's an acromantula.” Hagrid told them.

Which meant nothing to Harry, really. Except for the back half of that name was the same as the back half of tarantula. Which made him suspicious as to what Aragog actually was. Hermione on the other hand, sucked in a lungful of air, clearly recognizing what Hagrid was talking about.

“So … what's an acromantula? Harry asked.

“Big spider.” It was Neville that spoke up, not Hermione. “Really, really big. They get big as horses as adults. Fifteen feet or more legspan.”

Harry gave Hagrid a wide-eyed look. He wasn't at all arachnophobic, but he might just get that way after meeting a spider that big. “Ok, that's … creepy.” He admitted.

Hagrid, for once, forebore to repeat his oft-used phrase when it came to big and nasty critters. 

Then Harry blinked. “Wait … you said he 'is'. Which implies he's still alive.”

Hagrid nodded. “He's gettin' old, but he's got 'nother decade or so in 'im yet.”

“And … where is Aragog now?” Neville wanted to know.

“In the forest. Found 'im a mate, 'an they got themselves a colony now.” Hagrid said.

Harry shared a look with Hermione and Neville wherein all three of them agreed to never, ever set toe in the Forest again. Because monster spiders. Norbert would just have to understand.

“Was Riddle that accused me an' Aragog of bein' behind the attacks. Rotten Slytherin.” Hagrid continued.

Seeing Harry's eyebrow head for the ceiling, Hagrid grumbled. “A'ight, so not all of 'em're bad. He was.”

Riddle … Riddle. Wait. “Tom Marvolo Riddle? I saw something in the trophy room once … “ Harry said.

Hagrid made an epic stinky face. “That be him. Got hisself an award fer special services ta the school from Headmaster Dippet.”

Well, what did you know. A monumental screwup that wasn't attributable to Dumbledore, Harry thought. Didn't make it any less horrible, but it was a nice change of pace from 'Dumbledore's fault'.

“Ok, that just … that's completely unfair to you. Is there anything … ?” Harry said.

“Were him 'gainst me, 'arry. T'ain't no proof neither way now, not really.” Hagrid said. “Not like th' Ministry's gonna take the word of a ghost. 'Specially not one they've had problems with.”

That's when the other shoe dropped, because while Harry hadn't met her, he'd heard about Moaning Myrtle – the only Hogwarts-age ghost he knew of. A tenuous connection at best, until another memory slotted into place, of Minerva mentioning an incident involving the Chamber.

“Wait … Myrtle … The Headmistress … Shass … “ Harry sputtered, as all those old bits of information slotted into place in his head. “The Chamber! It has to be opened by a parseltongue!”

Hermione sat bolt upright. “And the only known parseltongues in the UK in the last century are you … and Voldemort.”

“So Voldemort's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Harry grinned. “Finally! Everyone's been going nuts trying to figure out who he is.” Harry focused on Hagrid. “I know you couldn't have known him for long, Hagrid, but did you know him at all?”

“Nah. He were Slytherin, an' two years ahead o' me. Saw him in the halls, but that were it until he got me booted out. Popular feller, but he weren't the only one could claim that.”

Harry almost pouted. “Darn. Guess we'll have to do some digging then. At least we finally have somewhere to start. Thanks, Hagrid!”

Despite the breakthrough, Harry and Hermione finished the visit before Harry wrote a note and sent Hedwig off.

(_)(_)(_)

February 1, Potter Castle

The note from Harry had been a godsend. Once they had a name, Sirius and Remus basically tripped over Riddle everywhere they looked. Minerva, when they asked, happily forked over Riddle's school records and, more importantly, his mailing address from the Book of Names.

From there, it was like watching dominoes fall. Within three weeks, they had traced Riddle's steps from the orphanage right up to his 'disappearance' in the very late fifties. A bit of footwork in the Auror archives even got them a timeline on all but the diadem horcrux that they'd found and destroyed. They simply asked about records of crimes related to the Gaunts or any of the known Founder artifacts.

That was the good news. The bad news? They had also gotten a line on a horcrux they hadn't known about yet – the Gaunt Family Signet Ring, which had neither been on the body of Marvolo Gaunt, nor had it returned to the bank like James' had, when they asked the goblins. Given what it was, it could not have been stolen. Which left only Riddle as the root cause of the ring's disappearance.

Given Gaunt's first name and Riddle's middle name, not to mention the proximity of a house once owned by the Riddles to Gaunt lands when they poked around, Sirius posited that Riddle, as a (probably very marginally) more suitable potential heir than Marvolo's acknowledged son, had just taken the ring off of Marvolo at his death. Said ring could be anywhere now.

More good news – Severus' rumors as to Riddle's blood purity had, of course, been confirmed. Better, if what little they'd found on Merope Gaunt – which was mostly that her name wasn't in Hogwarts' book – was right, she had been, at best, a hedgewitch. Making Riddle the son of a horrifically inbred hedgewitch or worse a squib, and a Muggle. That discovery would have certain parties foaming at the mouth.

On a note unrelated to ammunition they could use against Riddle, the Gaunt family's history of inbreeding creeped Sirius out. Oh, most pureblood families were inbred, sure. But they at least tried to keep things to a dull roar by (mostly) not marrying closer than second cousins. The Gaunts? Yeesh. It was a long, horrifying trail of fathers siring the next generation on their daughters, or siblings bringing the next generation into being. At best, they hitched with a cousin. With all that going on, no wonder Riddle had gone barmy enough to become a Dark Lord. He couldn't have been dealing with a full deck to start with, even with the infusion of completely unrelated blood from his father.

The other bit of news was that in investigating Riddle, they found where Dumbledore had met his end. The cemetery still stank of Black Magic and bore the scars of the magical battle that had taken place there. Severus was even able to guess at how the resurrection might have been accomplished, based on the desecration of Tom Riddle Sr.'s grave. Sirius didn't doubt but that Severus might find a way to mess Riddle up, even so long after his resurrection, with that knowledge. Such Black arts invariably had a glaring weakness somewhere. All you had to do was find it, then figure out how to take advantage of it.

The whole thing had been, yes, a mixed blessing but they at least had the weapon of Riddle's true parentage to wield if it came to that. Whether against the purebloods that followed him or against Riddle himself, depending on how he felt about it. Which, given his rampage against pretty much everyone under the guise of pureblood superiority … well. Who knew? It was entirely possible that not even Riddle knew what he was fighting for, given how crazy he'd gotten. Yeah, he'd evidently re-tightened his screws, but that didn't mean information didn't get lost in the meantime.

More importantly, that early trail gave them a better idea of how a saner Riddle thought, acted, and reacted. Which, since Riddle was close to or at that level of sane again now, would give them a good idea of what he might pull. Aside, of course, from the micro-raids. Because he wouldn't stick with those indefinitely, even if they were working. Sooner or later he'd have to go for something bigger. He couldn't take over the Ministry or much of anything else doing the micro-raids.

Sirius figured he'd keep the raids up for a little while. Until Riddle judged the Aurors – and the Alliance – to be frazzled, worn, and tired from chasing the Death Eaters around. A tired, frustrated defense force made mistakes. Mistakes that Riddle could capitalize on.

Thank Merlin for the Weasley clan. Because otherwise, Riddle's plan would work. It still would with the Aurors, but with the Weasley clan in the Alliance, the Alliance would be able to stay a whole lot fresher. And who knew? With so many minds to bend to the problem, they might just figure out a way to interrupt or stop the raids.

There was one last problem. With the discovery of the ring horcrux – which they were going to have to find – they had five horcruxes, with a sixth portion of soul in Riddle himself. Sirius didn't think Riddle would have settled for that. There were, after all, numbers with special magical significance. Six wasn't one of them. But seven was. Which meant they very probably had one more horcrux to be looking for.

Given Riddle's previous choices for horcruxes, the odds of it being some Founder's artifact were high. The question being: Which artifact, from which founder? They had one each from three of them. The problem lay in the fact that the only known Gryffindor artifact was his sword – which was safely well beyond Riddle's reach. None but a 'true Gryffindor' could summon that sword. A phrase that had taken on a whole new meaning for Sirius since the discovery that Harry was actually Godric's heir. Sirius didn't even know where the sword was stashed until it was summoned. No one ever had, so far as he knew. Though it was logical that a Potter had known, at some point in the past, even if the information had eventually gotten lost. The point being that Riddle wouldn't have been able to get his hands on the sword.

There could have been, of course, some other (forgotten) artifact that Riddle had found. But it was also a possibility that Riddle had chosen something else. Either a second artifact from one of the other Founders, or maybe something else linked with the Gaunts or the Riddles.

Sirius shoved the journal that had all their information and guesswork on Riddle in it aside and sat back, thinking. Maybe he should get some of Her Majesty's people in on this? Granted, they didn't know or understand magic for the most part, but that didn't mean they couldn't or wouldn't come up with a solution to one or more of their problems. It was worth considering. For all he knew, they had some sort of technology that could see through wards and other magic. Or could develop technology that could do so, if they were informed of the problem. Also, the Queen was probably getting a touch irked at the mess Riddle was making on the Muggle side of the divide. She hadn't demanded an audience yet, but Sirius was willing to bet she would if things continued the way they were.

Right. A trip to Buckingham Palace it was, then. Well, after the appropriate invitations and acceptances, of course.

“Hey, Remus!” Sirius called out to the hallway, through his open office door. A moment later, Remus poked his head in.

“What is it, Sirius?” He asked.

“What's our schedule look like for the next few weeks?” Sirius wanted to know.

“Why?” Remus asked, instantly on the alert. But then, he had a lot of experience recognizing when Sirius was up to something.

“I think we need to have a confab with the Queen and whatever of her people she thinks need to be in on this. They might have something or be able to come up with something to help with the raids. And I figure it's been a while since she last got a rundown of what's going on. With all the mayhem going on Muggle-side, she's probably considering demanding an audience with us.” Sirius told Remus.

Remus blinked. “That's … all good points, actually. Just send her the letter, though. Her calendar has to be a whole heck of a lot busier than ours. Whatever day she says works for her, if we have appointments scheduled, I'll re-schedule them.”

“Right, good idea.” Sirius said. “Now where's that book … “ He pawed through the desk drawers, looking for the letter writing guide book. He didn't normally have to consult the thing, long used to addressing letters to folks in the magical world. But writing the Queen was definitely not something he'd done much, and doing it badly might not displease her, but it was just plain bad manners when he had a book that told him how to do it right.

“There anything else we need to talk to her about, or ask her?” Sirius asked as he finally found the book and put it on the desktop.

“Maybe ask about setting up a fund on the muggle side for the victims? I know you've been doing what you can from our end, but having something not tied in any way to the magical world might be easier.”

Sirius nodded. “Good idea. Maybe a dedicated orphanage, too. I know the kids are being absorbed into the existing system, but … “

Remus nodded, understanding what Sirius was getting at. The kids' situations were the fault of the Wizarding world, and they kind of owed them. They couldn't bring back the kids' parents, but they could damn well make sure the kids were well taken care of.

“It's worth bringing up. Even if the dedicated orphanage is a no-go, setting something up to ensure the orphans get taken care of would be necessary.” Remus told Sirius.

“And I haven't got a clue what we'd need to do to set something like that up, Muggle-side.” Sirius said with a nod. 

(_)(_)(_)

Buckingham Palace, February 3, 1993

Queen Elizabeth had been pleased to receive a missive from Lord Black. She did not blame him for the current rash of attacks. The man had done all that was required of him and more to try to bring the conflict to a close. Never the less, she wished to speak with him.

As she had indicated, he was but one man. While he'd had a number of good ideas, and her own people had had further ideas, it was past time to conduct a thorough, in depth consultation to see if, perhaps, a way couldn't be found to end the conflict.

This being something of great importance to the Realm, the Queen arranged for Rifkind and as many officials from the various agencies that had a stake in this matter as could clear their schedule on such short notice. Given it was the Queen asking, there had been no demurals. There had been a surprise bow-out however, mere hours before the meeting would be taking place. The official in question's wife had gone into labor a week early. The Queen was not nearly so much a martinet that she would demand the man's attendance under such circumstances, and had given him leave to attend the birth of his child rather than still try to make the meeting.

They met in one of the more formal, less showy meeting rooms in the castle. This, after all, wasn't about pomp and circumstance. This was about getting the job done. Once everyone had greeted her properly and found their seats, the Queen spoke up.

“Lord Black, We would first tell you that We are not displeased with you, or the job you are doing. Attempting what you are, alone, is a monumental task, and one you have acquitted well. That said, the situation is becoming untenable. Our citizens are under threat, vulnerable to attack at any time. The forces We prepared and that you and your group had taught to deal with Our wayward Magical subjects cannot perform the task expected of them under the current conditions.”

Sirius sighed. “No, they can't. Even we are having problems. We don't even find out something's happened until it's been over for hours, because Voldemort is hitting places where no magicals live. Which means we don't have a house elf presence in those areas to warn of danger.”

“There is a bit of good news, though.” Sirius said. “We finally have a real name to go with the man. One of the people I am acquainted with actually went to school with the man, before he went completely barking mad. There was an incident at the time, the specifics of which allowed us to identify Voldemort's true identity.”

“What's the margin for error on that?” One of the men at the meeting asked.

“Zero percent.” Sirius said. “Voldemort has an unusual magical ability. Well, unusual for the UK proper, anyway. There have only been two people with this ability in the last hundred years, and the other one is my godson.”

That got nods.

“Interestingly, he had a presence on the non-magical side. He was born Tom Marvolo Riddle. His mother died, and he was placed in Wool's Orphanage sometime in the nineteen twenties, where he lived for the first eleven years of his life. I would be grateful if an investigation could be launched. Specifically, looking for any crimes associated with the orphanage in any way, or in the surrounding area, from nineteen twenty to nineteen sixty. It would, at worst, give us valuable information on the man, and at best, give us an even better idea of how he thinks and how he works.”

There were several nods. “Profiling him does sound like it might help.” Someone said. “Establish a pattern of behavior you can watch for. Though I'm curious as to why the long timeframe.”

“Yeah, we've already had problems with that.” Sirius said. “In the seventies, Riddle was … seriously unhinged. I'm not sure of the specifics other than he was definitely insane. Almost a textbook supervillain, in a lot of ways. Monologues and evil cackling included. But since his return, he's … well, saner. Not pulling the same grandstanding tactics he used in the latter days of his first attempt at ruling the magical world. It's driving everyone barmy trying to figure out what he's going to do next and whether or not we're going to be able to counter it. Really, the way things stand, we're stymied until he goes back to the big moves. Which he eventually will, because he can't conquer the magical world by conducting guerrilla strikes against purely non magical populations.”

“As for why the long timeframe, from what we've discovered, Riddle disappeared sometime in the very late fifties. Where he went or what he did we haven't a clue, but it definitely wasn't anywhere here in the UK. So if he did anything to or at the orphanage, either as a resident or after, it would have to have been before that disappearance.”

“No luck on locating him?”

“No. If we had or could suborn a house elf attached to one of his followers, we'd have him in a trice. As it stands, he's got wherever he is warded to the hilt. Enough so that none of the house elves we do have on tap can find him.”

“What makes the difference?”

“House elves are bound to a particular Family.” Sirius said, opting not to try to explain how the system worked for the Hogwarts elves. “Which allows them to find and get to all the members of that Family regardless of where they are or the wards around them. But they can't do that with anyone outside the Family. They locate magical humans by way of our magical cores, which are apparently as unique as fingerprints. Most elves, regardless of who they're bound to, have a list of people they 'know' and can go to. But only if that person isn't behind heavy duty wards.”

“What about having them get a load of these terrorists' 'magical cores' and then nabbing them the moment they stick their heads out the door of wherever they're hiding.”

“A good idea in theory, except non of the ones we have access to have an ID on the people we're wanting to find. And they can't get that ID without meeting the people first.” Sirius said. 

“And even if they could stumble across these people, they're dangerous and the elves would risk being spotted by any of their own kind that worked for the terrorists.” Someone said. “And maybe caught and killed. Right, so that's that idea scuppered, at least until we get really flat-out desperate.”

Sirius nodded. “I'm actually hoping you guys might have an answer to the problem. I know nonmagical people can't find magical places thanks to certain wards we put up, but I wonder if some of your tech might not be able to spot those places. After all, technology doesn't have a mind to fool.”

“That … bears investigating.” Someone agreed. “How would we go about it?”

“Well, I can give you the location of a couple places, provided no record is kept of their existence, whether you find them or not. Until we're ready to reintegrate, having information like that recorded somewhere might end up a disaster.” Sirius said.

There were a number of nods.

“Right, if you come to our satellite control center, we can try and find these places.”

That sounded like a plan to Sirius. “And if you guys can find our places … well, then it becomes a question of finding all the places and matching them up with places we know of. If one's showing activity it shouldn't, or there's an extra place hidden somewhere, well then, we have our terrorist hideout.”

“And with it located, things get a lot easier.” There was something in that man's tone that promised a 'training accident' with Her Majesty's Royal Air Force.

Not that it was a bad idea, Sirius reflected. One bomb and no more Death Eaters? That would be sweet. Sure, so long as he had at least one Horcrux, Voldemort wouldn't be killed but putting that big a dent in his army would slow his take over attempt to a crawl. Not to mention that without people to hide behind, it would be a whole heck of a lot easier to hunt Voldemort down, slap some magic restraining cuffs on the bastard, and pour truth serum down his throat to find out where the remaining horcruxes were.

Yeah. That kind of thing, Sirius could get behind. He was realist enough to know it wasn't going to happen that easily, but a guy could dream. Especially when doing it that way meant Harry would never have to face off against the bastard. The less Harry had to do with this mess, the more Sirius liked it.

“There's one other thing I'd like to ask about.” Sirius said. “I know a lot of people have been deprived of homes, and several kids have become orphans. This is our fault, really, for not putting a stop to Riddle fast enough. I've set some stuff up magic-side to help the victims, but I was wondering about the feasibility of setting something up on the non-magical side. An orphanage, or at least a fund to allow the kids to go to their schools of choice, something to allow those who lost their homes to relocate without putting themselves in the poorhouse. That sort of thing.”

The Queen nodded. “This is a good and needful thing. We are sure Our advisors can assist you in setting something up.”

(_)(_)(_)

February 5, 1993

Sirius visited the satellite control center two days later. It was pretty impressive. And almost every bit of it was miles over his head. Pun fully intended. There were a lot of people in the room, even more computers, and a plethora of things that Sirius just didn't know what the heck it was or what it did.

“Right.” The man in charge said. “Let's see if we can find hidden places.”

Sirius grinned. “Right. Somewhere in the northeast Scottish Highlands, there's a castle.” He said.

This, rather understandably, got him a dirty look. Given that there were something like two thousand castles in Scotland, there were at least a hundred, probably more, that were in the 'northeast highlands'.

“Point your little spy eyes to the area between Craigellachie and the coast.” Sirius said, naming the town to the south and west of Hogwarts.

The man gave the necessary orders, and within the hour, a satellite was in position to get a good look at the area. The results were … interesting as hell. Because the equipment? Was insisting, very adamantly, that there was, in fact, a big, populated castle in that area. But any attempt to actually look, with human, non-magical eyes, and the screen Hogwarts was supposed to be on was empty, showing only the Forest and the lake and, according to the non magicals, the decrepit, tumbled-down husk of a castle. Which Sirius knew to be the 'cover' for Hogwarts.

He, on the other hand, could see Hogwarts on the screen as plain as day. He was betting squibs could, too, since most of them could see magical creatures and the like, they just couldn't cast spells at all. There were a lot of squibs in the UK. Many of whom were understandably angry at the wizarding world and might just be inclined to take a poke at the world that had rejected them.

And while the muggle-repelling wards obviously still worked even when seen through a whole bunch of filters, if these people listened to their machines instead of their eyes … yeah. It was a little worrying. Fortunately, the only person in the room that knew they were looking for a magical castle was the guy in charge.

Sirius had never before wished for Dumbledore (or better, Harry) level magical power before. But right now the urge to do one of those area-effect Obliviates that normally tool three or four Obliviators working in tandem to pull off was immense.

But he refused to be Dumbledore, manipulating people 'for the greater good'. Trust had to start somewhere, and where better than here? It was only one man who knew exactly what they were looking at/for. The others all thought they were taking a crack at some sort of anti-satellite technology. Which wards sort of were, so it wasn't even a lie, really.

Sirius kept his wand in its holster, and he and the guy in charge moved to the man's office, where no one would overhear them talking.

“Well, that was interesting. Mixed result, but if you got a squib in here, we could still check off all the places that are legitimate.” Sirius said.

“Probably not worth it. I'm going to have a time of it redirecting some of the boys out there.” The man said. “They like nothing better than a mystery. Eventually, they'll forget this, but not if they're constantly being asked to look for places that register on the machines but not with their eyes. They'll start asking really awkward question eventually.”

“And we really don't want my world exposed right now. In a decade or so, after the memory of all this mess has faded a bit? Yeah, that might manage to not blow up in our faces. But right now? No. That would end badly. For everyone involved.”

“Agreed.” The man said. “So we let this lie, and try to find another way to find your terrorists. The sooner the better.”

“We'll try to come up with something on our end.” Sirius promised. “Don't know if we'll manage, but we'll try. As much as I hate to say it, we may have to wait for Riddle to lose patience and start back up with the big moves aimed at the magical community before we get anywhere. Those, at least, we'll be able to put a kibosh on right quick. House elves come in very handy.”

“Sounds like.” The man agreed. “Well, I'll let you go. You said something about an appointment to figure out what to set up and how for the victims of the attacks?”

“Yeah, in about half an hour actually. This took a bit longer than I anticipated.” Sirius said.

The man nodded. “You better get going. Especially if you're traveling the non magical way. That can take some time.”

“Nah, I intended to apparate to someplace close by.” Sirius said. “There's a few likely spots where no one would notice me popping into existence.”

“Have fun with that, then.”


End file.
